State of the Union
by drakensis
Summary: Peter Steiner-Davion has spent six years in self-imposed exile, trying to work out who he is. When a stranger arrives at St Marinus House, he must learn whether she is a sister he never knew of… or if a sister he thought he knew is someone else entirely.
1. Zaniah III

Author's Note:

Thank you to FASA for creating Battletech, WizKids and CGL for keeping the setting going over the years, to HBS for their game and to the fanfiction community for giving me ideas.

I don't own Battletech or the associated copyrights, I'm not making a profit off this so no one else should. Making fun of it, on the other hand…

Dedicated to the memory of Margaret Robb Pyle, 1925-2018

* * *

_Like a small boat_

_On the ocean_

_Sending big waves_

_Into motion_

Chapter 1

St Marinus House, Zaniah III

Skye Province, Lyran Alliance

6 December 3062

For a moment, Peter saw stars and then he felt the sand-covered stones of the yard beneath his back.

"It's fortunate you have a thick head," Brother Keith informed him, bringing his stave up to rest position. "Even with headgear, you take enough knocks that I'd be afraid you were losing what wits you have."

"Not as many as I used to." Taking a deep breath, Peter kipped up and recovered his feet, his own stave still in his hand. Dropping it when he fell had been a habit it took weeks to get out of but by now it was ingrained. "Again. Please."

The monk shook his head in disbelief but he readied his stave. "I suppose repetition may teach you something in the long run," he warned. "But it may be painful."

"The lessons that stick often are."

The staffs were plastic not wood - Zaniah III wasn't entirely without trees but wood wasn't something that could be readily replaced, at least this far from the major settlements, so more durable materials were preferred - and they cracked against each other with pleasing force and sound to Peter.

Up, across, he thought, reading the pattern of Brother Keith's moves. Now to try left and -

Keith twisted his stave and brought it up against Peter's right hand, pulling the blow enough that it stung but didn't break the fingerbones. It certainly could have if he'd chosen too.

With a cry, Peter sprang back, shifting to a one-handed guard as he shook the injured fingers.

"Enough?" the monk asked mildly, but with a note of mischief in his voice.

"I'll be fine," he snapped back and immediately regretted the tone. "I'm sorry."

"Mmm. Perhaps not the best idea to continue. If you want something to pound on, Peter, there are weight-bags in the gymnasium that will serve."

The kind tone stung worse than his hands. "I'll take that advice. Perhaps after I wrap my fingers."

"Yes, that would be wise." Keith put aside his stave and took Peter's hands. "Bruises alone, but still worth taking care of. Remember, son, your body is a temple of the Lord."

"Is that in scripture?" It didn't ring a bell for Peter even after six years in which the library of Saint Marinus House had been his primary source of reading material.

"The book of Keith hasn't been canonised yet." The older man smiled gently. "No doubt they'll get around to it someday. Go wrap your hands, Peter. We both have other things to do."

Peter bowed respectfully as Keith took both staves to put away. "Am I getting better?"

"Yes, Peter. With a few more decades to work on your temper you'll be safe to be around with a six foot pole."

Unbuckling his headgear, the redhead shook his head and felt it slip free from his sweaty hair. "Better than being dangerous, I suppose."

Keith's smile was sincere. "Any fool can be dangerous to themselves and everyone around them."

And if I can't wield a simple staff judiciously, how can I use a BattleMech responsibly? Or the political power I inherited? Questions like that had haunted Peter for six years now, they'd brought him here and he had yet to find answers.

The door before him opened well before he could reach it and another monk looked out. "Ah, Peter. Are you done?"

"Yes, Boniface. Brother Keith is free now if you want him."

The other man shook his head slightly. "No Peter, the Abbot's sent for you."

"For me?" He'd seen Abbot Giles often, but it was rare for the old man to summon him directly. Running the remote abbey was a constant labour, albeit one that had been in the abbot's safe hands for longer than Peter had been alive. While Brother Giles made time for younger members of the community, it largely had to fit in around his schedule. A summons suggested something more formal. "I see, thank you."

He entered the door and turned left towards the wing of the monastery where the Abbot's offices were, but Boniface caught him by the elbow.

Startled, Peter tore his arm free without thinking. "What?"

The smaller man drew back a half-step. "He wants to see you in the infirmary."

"Oh." He felt rather than saw Keith's disappointed eyes on him. "Thank you again, Brother. And my apologies. I'm... on edge again. But it's no excuse."

"We all have our trials, Peter," the man said soothingly. "Will you share your concerns in with us in prayer?"

"Perhaps." Which meant no. It wasn't that he didn't trust the monks, Peter told himself as he went up the steps dug into the mesa, leading up to the infirmary. But the community welcomed mechwarriors from all across the Inner Sphere, men and women born into realms that were often at each other's throats. Admitting what had driven him here wouldn't just be talking to fellow Lyrans and Suns citizens like Keith or Giles. How would someone like Boniface, who hailed from the Free Worlds League and on the League's border with the Lyrans at that, feel in learning Peter had come within hours of starting a war between the League and the Federated Commonwealth?

Of course, there had been a war since, but that one wasn't Peter's fault. Relations could easily be ruined again if his actions came to light, right when Inner Sphere was at something like peace. And that would assuredly be on his conscience.

The infirmary was, like much of the Abbey, a mix of monastic asceticism when it came to comfort and modern technology when it came to functionality. One of the beds had a curtain drawn partially about it, but Peter could see the stand of an IV drip in place through the gap.

"I'm sorry, Abbot. I've no idea who she is." The owner of the voice stepped out from behind the curtain, looking back. The habit was the same as that worn by all the monks, but from the greying blond hair, Peter realised that this was Brother Peter - a cause for some confusion since Peter had arrived. The monk had adopted the name of Christ's first disciple when he took his formal vows - his birth name was Aldo, which had been a popular boy's name on Skye early in the century - only two weeks before Peter arrived. "Ah, Peter."

"Yes, Brother Peter. The abbot sent for me."

"I did, yes." The bald abbot followed the brother out. "Thank you for your time, brother. I'm sorry to have taken you away from your prayers."

"I'm only sorry I wasn't able to help." The Skye mechwarrior-turned-monk gave Peter a friendly smile and exited past him.

Abbot Giles turned to look back behind the curtain. One eye was cast into shadow for a moment, and Peter was reminded again of another face, a more famous one. Add an eyepatch and long white hair and that white face would have been a brother to Anastasius Focht's. He'd wondered for years if there was a connection but declined to enquire. Brother Giles, like so many of those here, had come here to leave outside ties behind. Peter owed it to them to respect that. "We have a guest, Peter."

"Not a new resident?"

Giles shook his head. "I'm not sure. Brother Morgan found her outside the monastery when he was bringing in supplies. She may have been wandering the desert for some time."

"Lost?" Peter asked, rubbing his jaw. And why call on him? And Brother Peter for that matter?

"Perhaps. She's dehydrated and hasn't regained full consciousness."

"How can I help, sir."

"There are no sirs here, Peter," Giles chided him gently. "We are all brothers and sisters at St Marinus. I am merely wondering if you might be able to identify her."

"Me?"

"Yes. She's said a few words, disjointed and mumbled. I wondered if they might shed some light on her presence." He gestured for Peter to come around. "The two that are clearest are 'Peter' and 'Brother'."

That clarified that. Peter followed the abbot around the curtain. "I don't think either of my sisters would actually come... here...?

Despite that he'd half-wondered if he'd see the red hair of his younger sister Yvonne on the pillows on the bed. Instead he saw characteristically sharp Steiner features beneath a salve he recognised as used for heat and abrasions, surrounded by a shock of blonde curls. "Dear God."

"Hmm. It's been many years since I saw royalty," Giles murmured. "And holos never quite convey the familiarity. I take it then..."

"Y-yes." Peter crossed the room and examined the face more carefully. She could have fit in seamlessly among his cousins from Gallery. Or... "May I?"

"May you what? Examine her? Within proprietary, young man."

With great restraint, Peter didn't point out that he was closer to thirty than twenty. That was still less than a third of the abbot's years. Instead he gently rolled back one eyelid and saw not the grey of his mother or grandmother's eyes but instead a warmer blue he recognised from his father, or the mirror.

Katherine, immensely proud of their maternal heritage, had considered them the one flaw in her perfect image as a Steiner.

"Oh my God."

Giles rested one reassuring hand on Peter's shoulder. "You know her."

"It's been years for me too... but she's the spitting image of my elder sister."

* * *

Chapter 2

St Marinus House, Zaniah III

Skye Province, Lyran Alliance

7 December 3062

The next day, Peter was in the Abbot's office. They'd been politely asked to take their conversation out of the infirmary by Brother Antony, the nearest thing they had to an on-site physician and by mutual agreement had deferred further conversation on the new arrival for prayers, supper and a good night's sleep.

Well, Peter hoped it had been a good night for Giles. The old man needed his rest. Peter, for his part, had laid on the narrow cot of his cubicle - the traditional term of cell hadn't survived the centuries - with his mind working too hard trying to come up with scenarios that left Katherine walking through the desert to Saint Marinus. He'd eventually managed to snatch a few hours of sleep that didn't feel at all satisfying.

"It seems rather unlikely that she's actually your sister," Giles pointed out. "The Archon is supposed to be on New Avalon, which is... sixteen jumps away, give or take. Granted she might have a command circuit but even that would mean days without any public appearances."

"Holo and video appearances can be pre-recorded." Peter leant forwards. "Or she might have a body double - my mother had one when she was in her late teens."

"Possible, although in that case how can we tell if this is such a double." The old man sighed. "And surely she'd have more resources than to be left wandering the desert looking for us? We don't advertise our location but I'd assume LIC has a file."

"I know. We'll have to save questions for when she wakes up." Peter rubbed his chin. "Can I check her personal effects?"

"I don't see why not. Hopefully we can wrap this up without disrupting our community here, too badly."

Peter nodded and automatically offered a hand to Giles as the older man rose to his feet. They walked in silence down to the infirmary, the abbot returning the shallow bows from his brethren that they passed, and Brother Antony willingly handed over a basket containing the clothes that Katherine - or so Peter assumed - had been wearing.

"This isn't exactly the fashion I'd envisaged the Archon would wear." Giles held up a bulky black overcoat and indicated the metal snaps. "This is a man's jacket."

Peter noted which way it buttoned and shrugged. "Could be. Or from a world where they customarily button the other way around. I don't think it would fit her though."

"Possibly a donation from someone." The abbot handed a wallet over. "No identification."

"No, and these aren't kroner." Peter pulled out some coins and then a bank note. "Actually, I have no idea what these are. They don't look like any currency I've seen."

"Hmm. Not much more than ink on some sort of polymer," agreed Giles, taking the bank note. "It says pounds, what should there be on a Davion ten pound note?"

"The Federated Suns treasury doesn't issue ten pound notes. Or any pound notes since 3045."

Giles frowned. "I could have sworn they started issuing bank notes again. But... hmm. My eyes aren't the best anymore. Bank of England?"

"It doesn't ring a bell," Peter admitted. "I'd think it would be some kind of toy money - from a board game or the like - but why keep that in a wallet?"

"Indeed."

The other clothes were fairly plain - worn jeans and work boots, a polo-shirt and a sweater with a torn collar. All men's cut and too large for the woman in the infirmary.

"I don't see why any woman would be walking around wearing this, whether she's your sister or not," the Abbot admitted. "The keys are no use without any guide to where the doors they belong to are and the personal comm isn't working."

"Looks like a cheap disposable. I suppose she could have had to replace her clothes if her own were damaged, but did she have any other injuries?"

"Nothing Antony mentioned and..."

As if summoned, the infirmarian opened the door to the sideroom where they'd been examining the clothes. "Brother Giles, Peter." He dipped his head. "Our guest is awake now."

"Then we can hope for answers," Peter declared and burst to his feet, striding through the door with barely a pause for Brother Antony to let him pass.

The mystery woman still had the IV in one arm but her eyes were open and they snapped to Peter as he came around the curtain. "Why a JagerMech, for god's sake?" she asked him.

"What?"

She blinked. "Peter, I'm sorry about your son."

"My what!?" He didn't have a son! Did he?

The woman's face showed nothing but sympathy. "I'm sure Adam will care for him."

"Who is Adam?" asked Brother Giles curiously.

"You shaved your head!"

The abbot ran one hand self-consciously over his head. "No..."

Peter cleared his throat. "Who are you?"

"A cat," she said confidently and then studied her hands. "No, then I'd have paws... There's something..." Another blink. "Peter, where are we? Why are you wearing a dress?"

"It's not a dress, it's a habit."

"You should probably get out of it. No, not undressed." She frowned. "There's something wrong."

He moved to the bed and took her arm. "Stop this. Are you my sister? Are you Katherine?"

"Not Katrina!" she snapped, eyes furious. "Not crazy."

"No, of course you're not." The Abbot took Peter's hand and started prying his fingers open. "Calm down Peter."

"Peter, peter, peter, peter..." the woman sing-songed. "I have a... what's it called...!" she broke off in frustration.

"I think you'd better leave her alone," Antony counselled firmly. He went to the IV stand and made an adjustment. "Now, young lady, please lie down. You're a long way from being recovered."

She stared at him in confusion and then slowly laid back, raising her free hand to scrape off a sample of the salve. Gazing at it, her brow furrowed. "What is this."

"Your face was abraded by sand," the brother told her matter-of-factly. "This should take care of any infection or scarring."

"My face is my fortune," she said solemnly. "Or... no... why is this..."

Then her eyes went wide. "Arthur! The war! Peter, you have to save Arthur."

Peter blinked. "Arthur? My brother?"

"Yes, he's going to die."

"Uh, don't worry, I'll take care of it," he promised uneasily. What was wrong with her.

"No." Tears began to trickle from the corners of her eyes. "You're too late. New Avalon is burning, the reactor in Tharkad City -"

"That's enough!" Antony barked. "Give her room, both of you!"

"Jihad," the woman rambled, eyes flicking back and forth from sights that clearly only she knew. "Galedon gone, HPG's silent. Stone is an idiot and the dark age is... dark."

She was slumping back towards the pillows again, Antony supporting her. Peter guessed that he must have added a sedative to the IV a moment before. "It'll be alright," the monk assured her. "Just sleep and let us take care of it."

"There will be no victory for Victor. The eagle will fall. The gardener, tell him about the..."

The woman's eyes closed and her breath began to steady. No more words escaped her lips.

In the silence, the three men looked at each other. Giles shook his head slightly. "Well, clearly she's in no condition to answer our questions, the poor child."

"She spoke like Katherine," Peter said slowly.

"Really."

"The tone of voice, more than what she was saying. And she was trying to tell me something." Peter took her free hand and tucked it gently back under the blankets. "It's her. I'm sure of it."

"I realise it's not entirely fitting to my office, but to play devil's advocate she might be acting," the abbot cautioned him.

"I doubt that," Antony disagreed. "She was driving herself into a panic attack. That's hard to fake. I've seen a few."

Giles seemed about to comment but bit the words back. Peter glanced at him and then nodded in concession. Intelligence agents were trained to the point that it was possible. He didn't see what the point was in this case but even so, he shouldn't rule it out. "I can't just leave it at that."

"Perhaps we should involve the authorities," Antony suggested reasonably. "If she needs long term care this probably isn't the best place for her."

"I was under the impression Saint Marinus was a sanctuary. Open to those who sought it."

"That is so, but we're not really equipped for long term mental care," Giles said thoughtfully. "I suppose we should consult the authorities in case someone is looking for her."

"I'd rather you didn't do that, not just yet," Peter said automatically.

The old man sighed. "If she is, for the sake of argument, your sister, are you in a position to take care of her?"

"If you had a brother or sister coming to for you for help, what would you do?"

"Given the political implications of your family," the abbot said drily. "I think I'd be tempted to retire to a life of contemplation. But since you're already there, what do you have in mind."

Peter rubbed his chin. "A moment to think, please."

"Of course."

He paced back and forth, mind whirling. Was he right about who she was? Was she right about Arthur, about everything else? Victor had left the Federated Commonwealth broken and he'd assumed that Katherine taking power on New Avalon as well as Tharkad was the beginning of rebuilding their parents' empire... but where Arthur and Yvonne fell in that he had no idea anymore.

"Firstly, I need to clear up her identity," he decided. "Could I have a blood sample from her and loan of an aircar."

"You want to have someone do a comparison?"

"Yes, there should be clinics in Starboro that can take care of that."

"I would think so," Giles admitted and glanced at Brother Antony, giving him a nod. "Such places are discreet given they usually handle paternity tests and the like. Not particularly cheap though."

"There are accounts I can access." Assuming they haven't been emptied somehow, but he didn't particularly expect that. Discreet accounts with ComStar banks as well as various smaller establishments were an obvious emergency fallback for any House whose members might need a sudden ticket for interstellar travel or some other emergency. There would be no reason for Katherine to have cleared out the accounts Peter had access to - in fact she might not even know of all of them.

The abbot shrugged his stooped shoulders. "Very well, I suppose we can defer any formal reports until we know if we're actually dealing with a missing princess. Do you know how long tests like this generally take, Antony?"

"A decent lab could rush it through in a few hours. Expect to pay for that, though."

"I'll give you a shopping list then, Peter. Brother Morgan was to take our aircar to Starboro in a few days for supplies we can't get anywhere nearer. I'm sure he won't mind leaving a little early and having a companion."

* * *

Chapter 3

St Marinus House, Zaniah III

Skye Province, Lyran Alliance

10 December 3062

Through the flight back to St Marinus, Peter barely looked at the reddish-yellow wasteland that surrounded the abbey. All his attention was on the paper in his lap. He'd not even wanted to let it out of his hand until he realised he'd crumpled it.

"Peter."

He turned his head and saw Morgan was looking at him from the driver's seat. "Yes?"

"We're about to land. You should secure that or it'll wind up at the bottom of the footwell."

Peter forced a smile and rested one hand on the paper, pinning against his thigh. Morgan was the third person by that name that he knew... no, the fourth. It was Katherine's middle name. But the monk was considerably smaller and his accent had the bite of Tikonov, along with a slavic face that fit with neither Morgan Kell nor Morgan Hasek-Davion. "Thank you."

"Hmm. You're leaving shortly?"

"...I think so, yes."

Morgan nodded quietly and said nothing more until the aircar had nosed into the cave that served as their hangar. Then he shut the engine down and extended his right hand to shake. "God go with you, my friend. Don't worry about the unloading. You have enough on your shoulders."

Peter accepted the hand and they shook. "Thank you. I'll help you anyway."

Exiting the vehicle, he tucked the letter through his belt and started lifting parcels from the back. Morgan recovered a small trolley and between them they made short work of shifting the supplies to the store room. "Now go," the monk said sternly and pointed to the door.

Obediently and with a slight smile on his face, Peter left and headed for the Abbot's office. The door was open and to his surprise he heard a familiar voice through the crack. What was Victor doing here?

Opening the door he felt foolish, seeing that it was simply a holovid playing. But then the details sank in. Victor was wearing the traditional dress uniform of the Armed Forces of the Federated Suns - not of the united Federated Commonwealth or even of the ComGuards he currently led. As their father had, he wore the silver rank badge of a Field Marshal on his shoulder instead of the gold badge that was reserved for the First Prince.

"- Katherine's tyrannical actions, and by the sacrifices of patriots already fighting on the worlds of Kathil, Benet, Kentares, Demeter, Bromhead and others yet unreported," the half-sized hologram of his already diminutive brother declared bleakly. "We will resist with any and all means at our disposal the efforts to subjugate and enslave our freedoms. We will fight with the truth on our side, and we simply ask that everyone listen and judge accordingly. In the end, I know we shall be victorious, re-establishing a trustworthy and accountable government among our people, worlds and nations."

"...Peter." He saw the image blink out and turned to see that Brother Giles had used a remote to deactivate the holovid. "I take it that you missed the news at Starsboro?"

"What's happening? What was Victor saying?" He stepped towards the abbot forcefully. "Why did you turn it off?"

"He'd finished his speech, Peter. I have it recorded for you to watch the whole thing." The abbot seemed older even than his own advanced years. "But you may wish to sit down. It's hard to crane my neck back to look at someone as tall as you."

Peter took a deep breath and deliberately stepped back. "I'm sorry, but what is going on? Is Victor... back?"

Giles hunched forwards in his simple wooden chair, not meeting his eyes. "Yes. That's part of it."

"And the rest?" he demanded.

The bald abbot looked up sharply, "Sit down, nephew and I will tell you."

The snap of command cut Peter's knees out from under him and he groped blindly for the spare chair. Sat. Thought. Nephew? His parents were dead and neither had a living brother so... oh. "Hermann Steiner?" he asked.

Giles made a face. "I haven't used that name in more than half a century, Peter."

"You've been here all along?" Hermann was the younger brother of Alessandro Steiner, the inept Archon whose power had been usurped by Peter's maternal grandmother with popular support. Despite his abdication, the dethroned Archon had remained a focus for opposition for two decades and many thought that if Hermann had backed him then he might have been able to reclaim his former power. But instead the commander of the Second Royal Guards had resigned his commission and vanished into obscurity.

"I did not wish to trigger a civil war within the Commonwealth," Giles said softly. "It seems your brother is less resolved to his exile. No," he added, raising his hand. "My apologies. That was unfair, he has reasons I do not."

"What reasons."

The abbot pressed his hands together. "Peter, I have bad news. Your brother Arthur has been taken to heaven, along with many other innocent lives."

A chill went through Peter and his jaw hung loose as his tongue searched for words. Arthur? His little brother? "H-how?" he asked once he was able.

"It was..." Giles looked away. "He was making a speech at a stadium on Robinson, in the Draconis March."

I know where Robinson is! Peter bit back before the words. Arthur had been a cadet at the Robinson Battle Academy. The news, although Peter didn't follow it closely, had suggested that he distinguished himself defending the capital of the Draconis March when it was raided earlier in the year. That he was the sort of bold mechwarrior that both of them had dreamed of as boys on New Avalon.

"There were explosives," Giles continued sadly. "The stadium was demolished, the podium where he stood almost obliterated. Victor claims that your sister Katherine was behind it, that Arthur was speaking against her."

Peter shook his head in denial. Their mother had been blown up as well, an assassin's bomb. Victor hadn't managed to return for the funeral. But this would bring him back. "Was he?"

"I don't know. His speech, what he had said before... before, hasn't reached our news outlets yet. It's been four days apparently. Victor's speech was on the eighth."

"He heard sooner than we did?" Victor was supposed to be up on the Clan border, commanding the ComGuards there, the supposedly neutral armed forces of ComStar. That was considerably further from Robinson than Zaniah. "No, foolish of me. ComStar must have sent him a priority message."

"I would assume so." Giles nodded. "Here, I'll re-start the speech for you."

Peter nodded and started to turn his chair but his sleeve brushed against the paper he'd forgotten about. "Katherine... has she made a response."

"I'd assume so, but not in the news." Giles saw the paper and smiled slightly. "Our little lost lamb?"

Unfolding it, Peter handed it over. "In summary, yes. She is my sister."

The abbot scanned it. "I can't say I've studied this sort of thing in detail but..." He visibly blinked at as he reached the summary. "They do consider all the permutations, don't they?"

The younger man nodded his head. Probabilities for sharing one or both parents, anything from one to four grandparents... but all of them well above ninety percent certainty with an added note that both had grandparents from two distinct planetary ethnic mixes, most probably with one from the core worlds of the Federated Suns and one from their Lyran counterparts. Which was true of course. "From the way she looks, either she's the real Katherine or I have a third sister no one told me about."

"That seems just a little far fetched," Brother Giles conceded. "A missing princess either way."

"Not missing," Peter corrected him. "We know where she is... unless you've moved her."

"No, no. She's still in the infirmary. Calmer, when she was awake, but not really able to converse, at least so far."

"I see." No answers yet then. "Perhaps when I see her again she'll be more coherent."

"One can hope," Giles agreed dubiously and started the replay.

The infirmary was quiet and Brother Antony let Peter sit by his sister's side without comment other than to remove the IV and inform Peter that she should drink water cautiously when she woke.

The waking, when it came, was so quiet that Peter almost missed it, mind light years away as he tried to guess what was happening on the nearly one thousand worlds that Katherine - or whoever she was - ruled. The hand he held between his twitched, catching his attention and he saw the blue eyes open, staring in confusion at the ceiling.

"Katherine?"

She made a noise he took for affirmation and then coughed. Freeing one hand he filled a glass with water and held it to her lips. "Just sip."

Obediently, she suckled on the edge of the glass, swallowed, sipped again. Peter removed the glass and got an indignant look. "Sit up first," he advised, thinking back to how his mother had treated him when he was a child and stuck in bed with some flu or the like.

Katherine tried to sit up abruptly only to find she didn't have sufficient leverage and she slipped backwards, head embedding itself in the pillows with a look of astonishment on her face. "Peter?"

"Yes. I'm here." He offered her his arm as support and then adjusted the pillows behind her, giving her support as she sat back cautiously.

"Peter," she repeated. "James. John. Thomas, doubter. Judas... no. No-no. Wrong."

"That's Saint Peter," he said lightly, trying to hide his concern. "I'm Peter Steiner-Davion. Not quite the same."

"No," she agreed. "Peter. Not saint. At saint. Saint Ma-mare-mm... gh."

"Saint Marinus?"

She nodded sharply and then started looking around hopefully. "Arthur!" she asked in a voice that was so childishly hopeful that Peter choked, feeling the sting of tears forming at the corners of his eyes.

"No, no. I'm sorry." He took her hand between his again, studying it. "Arthur's gone, Katherine. I wasn't in time."

"Time is the fire in which we burn," she said in a flat voice.

He looked up sharply and found she was leaning towards, aiming a kiss for his forehead that landed on his nose instead.

"Eskimos?" she asked abruptly and leant back, shaking her head. "Nu-uh. Bad."

"Yeah, uh. Don't do that please." What the hell was an eskimo? "What happened to you?"

She looked at the glass pleadingly and he passed it to her. Holding it in both hands she sipped from it. "Desert..." she began. "Storm."

"There was a storm?"

"Storm hammers!" Letting go with one hand she thumped it down on the bedsheets. "Kelswa!"

"Kelswa? Robert Kelswa?"

"Grandson, I think. Ja...y? A J name."

Peter blinked. Robert Kelswa-Steiner's father had been a political enemy of their mother and of Victor. He'd been assassinated on Solaris right before Peter got embroiled in Tormano Liao's scheme to start a new war in the Inner Sphere. He was only vaguely familiar with Robert, who'd married into the loyal House Aten since Peter came to Saint Marinus. He certainly wasn't old enough to have a grandson.

Then again, Katherine had claimed that Peter had a son too. Which was almost certainly untrue. He'd hardly had the opportunity... at least, not lately. Damn. "You said I had a son too."

"Did I?"

"Yes. Earlier."

"Hmm. Too early," she said after a moment. "You aren't Archon yet."

Peter snorted. "Not likely to be, either."

"Victor and Katherine will see out a century," his sister said confidently. "But only Yvonne dies a natural death."

"Aren't you Katherine?" he shot back. God, what a horrible thing for her to say.

"...Katherine is crazy," she confided. "She hears voices. K is for crazy. For coconuts."

"I think that's C?" Did she have brain damage? If so then he'd have to take her to hospital.

"I like C. C for cat. Cathy. Cathy-rin."

"Katherine."

"With a C."

"Okay, with a C." Dammit.

She smiled warmly. "I'm Catherine."

"Okay, fine." He thought again. "You knew Arthur was in danger."

"Stadium," she said and shook her head sorrowfully. "He wanted freedom of speech, and the loyalists silenced him."

"Loyalists?"

"Loyal to Katrina. Victor's allies."

Peter shook his head. "Victor's allies? Do you mean Victor was behind it?"

"No!" she snapped angrily. "Victor's allies against Katrina's loyalists. Two sides of the war."

"You mean the war between the Lyrans and Davions?" he asked.

The glass went off the bed with a crash that coincided with her hand almost smacking against his cheek. "No! Don't buy her lies!" Catherine shouted. "Lies lies lies, everything burns in her lies."

"Whoa!" Peter hesitated and then hugged her against him, gently pinning her arms. "I won't, I promise."

"What's going on here?" asked Brother Antony, poking his head around the curtain. "Are you alright."

Peter gestured to the glass. "Just a little accident. I'll sweep it up."

Antony gave him a sceptical look. "Right now, if you please. There's a dustpan and brush in the cupboard. I can't have broken glass on the floor of the infirmary."

"Alright!" Peter released Catherine. "You be good."

"I'm always good." She paused. "But in purple I'm adorable."

Purple? Why purple? Never mind.

Cleaning up the glass took only a few moments and in the meantime, Brother Antony checked Catherine's vitals and found a fresh glass for her. "I'll bring some soup up after supper," he advised. "Solid food probably won't be an issue but better to be safe than sorry."

Catherine thanked him in german, for no reason Peter could guess at, and the monk retreated again, shaking his head.

Taking the seat by the bed, Peter sighed. "Catherine, we need to talk."

"I think we are talking," she said seriously and then paused. "Ah. Metaphor. Sorry."

"You knew about Arthur before it happened - you couldn't have gotten here in time to have heard about it after the fact. How did you know about it?"

She pursed her lips. "I remembered."

"Remembered what?"

"I -" With a cry she doubled up, clutching her head. "Too much, it's too much!"

Peter caught hold of her. "Okay, okay, think of something else, don't hurt yourself."

"I can't... I can't change..." She was biting her lip, hard enough to draw blood. "It's..."

"Think about Victor," he hissed. "Our brother, you know him. What do you know about him?"

"Mogyorod," she grated out. "He's on Mogyorod. Katrina sent an assassin. Isis Marik saved Victor and Omi."

"She did what!?" It shouldn't be a surprise, he thought. Not if she'd also killed Arthur, but to attack Victor when he'd already ceded power to her... or was this more recent. "When?"

"Months ago. I like her, she's good for Victor."

"Katrina?"

"No, god, that's horrible. Their child would carve an empire for the Wolves." Catherine shook. "No, I mean Isis."

"Isis... and Victor?" He shook his head. Most likely Catherine was subject to an over-active imagination, although it would be interesting to know if Isis really had saved their brother from an assassin. He'd thought she was engaged to marry Sun-Tzu Liao. "Never mind. What else about Victor?" It seemed to be calming her down at least.

"He wore father's uniform," she told him. "A mistake, it plays into Katrina's narrative."

"Victor wouldn't fit into father's uniform." Hanse Davion had been tall and broad-shouldered like Peter. "Wait... you mean, the AFFS greens?"

"Yes. Davion against Steiner. Anything to muddle the issue that he's fighting to end her tyranny."

Peter rubbed his jaw. That did sound plausible. It was how Katherine had won both the Lyran Alliance and then the remaining Federated Commonwealth - manipulating public opinion to create a divide between Victor and those he ruled, which she could then exploit. "I see. What would you have suggested? AFFC uniforms."

"Use the bishop to take the king."

"Are we playing chess now? Anyway, you don't take the king in chess - you checkmate them."

Catherine sniffed. "She'll kill the bishop before he can win the war. So many dead."

"What bishop?" Turning on the religious community would be incredibly clumsy for Katrina. Granted, she'd disbanded the Estates-General in the Alliance, but religion hit home in a way that elected officials rarely did. "Is he a bishop here in the Alliance?"

"No, on New Avalon."

"One of the New Avalon Catholic Church?"

"No?" She shook her head. "I don't know his faith."

"But what's he bishop of then?"

"The Guards, of course. He'll march on Castle Davion but Katrina has too many soldiers."

"The Guards." He leant back and thought. A chaplain? That didn't seem likely, military religious representation wasn't part of the command structure, but... "Oh! Bishop Sortek, the head of the Davion Guards!"

"So many Sorteks dead for us. Adriaan for our grandfather, Ardan for our brother and Bishop for our sins."

Peter rose and started pacing. "Bishop rising for Victor's sake... he'd have to have the First Davion Guards with him at least. If he could take New Avalon from Katherine it would badly weaken her... When, do you know when he plans this?"

"The avalanche is in motion, the rock has no vote."

"Rock?"

"Peter the rock."

He sighed. "That's the saint again, sis. Try again. Is there anything we can do? It'll take months to get to New Avalon and it's not as if I have a regiment of 'Mechs to take to his aid."

"Time, ask me for anything but time."

"Time and 'Mechs. Since I'm apparently making wishes."

Catherine slumped back onto the pillows. "Wishes and horses, and so we must ride."

"Yeah, that's what I thought."

"The bunker..." Her eyes were closed. "The militia bunker, lost for centuries. Beneath the burned capital of new... beneath new d'las," she slurred. "Forgotten cache."

Peter stared at his sister but her breath had steadied and her eyes were closed. Was he grasping at straws here? Probably, yes. But if Bishop Sortek was really going to make a play to remove Kath... Katrina... then he deserved better than to be left to die. If there was any chance at all...

"New Delos," he said thoughtfully to himself. "Anton Marik's old capital, Cienfuegos, the Dragoons burned it and if I recall correctly it's never been restored. There could be something there, stores lost in the Marik Civil War or any of the times the Capellans and League fought over it."

And while I could just go and hook up with one of Victor's supporters, if I do that I'm just another junior officer. No one's going to take me seriously, but if I bring resources to bear... I don't know if I can save Bishop or not but at least I could do something...

* * *

Chapter 4

Hartzborg, Zaniah III

Skye Province, Lyran Alliance

11 December 3062

It was more than ten years since Daniel had been allowed to follow his father into negotiations with prospective clients and he'd thought that the range of Clovis Holstein's contacts would no longer surprise him. He'd been to Outreach and met Wolf Dragoons, to New Avalon where his father had dropped in on Doctor Banzai and the two of them had vanished into a workshop for three days straight, even on a couple of very bold expeditions into the Jade Falcon Occupation Zone for sanctioned but not very welcome contacts between the Inner Sphere and the occupiers from the deep periphery.

But he had to admit that he'd not expected his father to be meeting with a group of monks in traditional habits. These weren't typical denizens of the short-hire offices used at dropports for ship owners and clients to meet.

"Brother Giles, it's been too long." His father bowed respectively, dipping his head well below the oldest monk's belt. Even Daniel's deepest bow wouldn't manage that - Clovis had an unfair advantage in that, since he was a good fifty centimetres shorter than his son - but the younger Holstein tried to be similarly respectful.

The monk smiled paternally. "I see you're doing well, Clovis. And this must be Daniel. I haven't seen you since... hmm. Since Morgan stopped by in '42."

Clovis nodded to Daniel in confirmation. "You were just a child at the time."

"I worked that out from the date, dad," he murmured - obviously not quietly enough because the largest of the three monks chuckled.

"And there's a face I didn't expect to see under these circumstances," Clovis added with a nod to the man. "So this is where you've been." He turned to look at the last monk - or was the word nun? Daniel wasn't sure - and then paused. "Hmm. And the surprises keep coming."

The woman's face was delighted. "For a short man, Mr. Holstein, you've cast a remarkably large shadow on our history."

"Not so great as others." His father sounded uneasy for the first time. "You have need of a jumpship?"

"And a dropship," the younger man said.

Brother Giles looked at him and shook his head. "I'd rather you took them to Thorin or somewhere else that they would be safer, but it isn't my decision."

"I agree that it's unwise, but I'm willing to take the chance." The younger man rubbed his chin. "Of course, that depends on Mr. Holstein's willingness."

Daniel saw his father give him a sidelong look and decided to take the chance. "May I ask what it is you have in mind? I'm Daniel Holstein, my father's aide."

The monk gestured towards the chairs. "Ardan Morgan and this is my sister Catherine. What I have in mind is some salvage work... inside the Free Worlds League."

"That's... not as dangerous as it has been in the past, but the Captain-General still generally prefers to be the beneficiary of such work. I'm assuming you don't have that in mind?"

"No, not really." 'Ardan' grinned somewhat tersely. "It's an old militia bunker under Cienfuegos."

His sister frowned at that. "Cienfuegos?"

"You said the burned capital city, for New Delos that would be Cienfuegos."

"Las," she said, stretching the syllables. "Uncle Chandy found it on New Dallas."

Daniel saw a flush of embarrassment rising up Ardan's cheeks. "Right. I stand corrected," he said after a moment. "So New Dallas is..."

"I know it," Daniel's father said calmly. "Rather nearer and easier to get to than New Delos but I take it we're still in the early planning stages?"

"Relatively, yes."

Clovis looked over at Giles. "I see what you mean. Is this really a risk worth taking?"

"Warriors kill warriors," Catherine said. "Lestrades kill Lestrades. Didn't you say that?"

Daniel's father twitched, the folded waldos around his wrists scraping the table. "That was before your time."

"She's right though. Family have to deal with family." Ardan looked over at them. "A good man - a lot of good men and women - are going to die trying to make right one of our family's errors. This gives us a chance of doing something to keep those deaths to a minimum."

What did Lestrade have to do with this, Daniel wondered. That House still controlled some parts of Skye province but their political position was far from what it had been. "It's an odd thing for two monks to be concerned with, isn't it? Aren't you supposed to leave the outside world behind?"

Brother Giles smiled slightly. "Ardan and Catherine are members of our community, but they have taken no vows. They have my help, and my blessing, even if they haven't chosen the path I counsel."

Leaning back in his seat, Daniel eyed them. "So a wild goose chase after a cache of lostech? I'm not convinced this is a good idea, dad."

"Isn't it the young who are supposed to be like adventures?" his father asked, folding his stubby arms. "At your age, I'd have loved the idea of going looking for some old cache."

"Lostech isn't exactly a major concern these days."

"To be honest," Ardan told him.

"Always the best policy, just ahead of dishonesty," his sister interrupted.

"Thank you, sis," the redhead said a trifle testily and Catherine looked chastened. "From what Catherine has been able to remember, we're not really looking at Star League technology here. It's an old militia base where military hardware was put into storage when the Star League had the member states demobilising much of their armed forces."

"Wouldn't they just have dug it out again for the Reunification War?" asked Daniel.

"Probably not." His father's eyes were distant, focused on what he remembered. "The SLDF mostly commissioned new equipment that would be standardised for their needs and use the advanced technologies they were putting into production. If what had been stored away was only on par with the sort of equipment the Succession Wars were fought with, it probably wouldn't have been considered fit for service."

"Seems wasteful to me, if you're thinking BattleMechs."

"Yes, but we're used to seeing every 'Mech as valuable and worth recovering and upgrading. The Star League was intent on maintaining their military production so they'd almost always look at buying something new rather than improving what they had." Clovis nodded. "It's plausible such a cache could exist... now that you know what planet it's on."

Ardan sighed at that point. "Yes, my fault for jumping to conclusions. We'll need to find out what the capital of New Dallas was."

"Caddy... Cadooo... Caddo City," Catherine muttered, half to herself. "Upon the isthmus between the continents, a peninsula jutting northwards into the ocean..."

"Is that it?" her brother asked.

"Have you been there?" asked Daniel. He was beginning to think that the blonde wasn't all there.

She snapped her head from side to side, hair whipping behind it. "The robes had an camp there... re-education for the masses... dig the dead for a year... never doubt the horrors of war again..."

Ardan turned and gathered her into an embrace. "It's okay, sis. You're not there."

"I never was! I never was!" she sobbed.

"I'm sorry I asked," Daniel muttered. "Dad, this doesn't sound like a good idea."

"It probably isn't, but with civil war breaking out, getting out of the Alliance for a month or two sounds appealing." Clovis pursed his lips. "One thing's sure, Loki wouldn't come looking for those two on a dead world in League space."

Daniel flinched at that. The Lyran government's professional terrorism force had featured in some of Nana Holstein's bedtime stories and they hadn't been the good guys. Not at all. "Maybe you're right. But let's not get our hopes up."

His father gave Ardan a nod. "Alright, you've hired yourself a jumpship and an engineer - although we'll be talking about payment shortly. And I know a few people we can talk to about a dropship and salvage gear."

* * *

Chapter 5

Hartzborg, Zaniah III

Skye Province, Lyran Alliance

12 December 3062

Daniel had hoped he was past babysitting when his youngest sister was at last judged fit to be left unsupervised for an evening, although this admittedly was only the case if she had access to a holovid and a box full of disks to play upon it. Fortunately Bifrost had a sizeable collection of the latter, even discounting those not appropriate to an eight year old girl.

It was no consolation that most of the people around him thought the blonde he had orders to 'keep happy and out of trouble' was probably his date. She wasn't, and her brother had the size and almost certainly the training to tear Daniel apart if he presumed on the instruction.

At least he got a sympathetic look from the doorman at the mall as he helped Catherine with her bags - much like shopping with his mother or sisters, that help seemed to involve carrying two-thirds of the mass of the purchases. Daniel had picked the mall as the nearest outside the drop-port. Only someone so rich they didn't care to count money or in such a hurry they couldn't afford to wait would shop on the actual premises of the drop-port. Prices were about thirty percent lower outside in the main part of Hartzborg.

Flagging down a taxi-cab he waved Catherine politely into the back seat with her own bags and waited patiently for the driver to get out and open the rear storage for the bags he was holding.

"Did she have you buy her a new wardrobe?" the cabbie asked, pushing the first bags deeper so that they could all fit in.

"That would have been bad enough, but the clothes shopping was the easy part." Pretty much everything Catherine had bought for herself was practical - jeans, work boots, several tops that were functional and only cost three or four times what the mens' section charged for equivalents. Daniel could be sure of that because his charge had done with shopping for herself only to head over there and buy some equivalents for her brother.

She'd changed in one of the restrooms so she was out of the habit she'd been wearing, although the fedora she'd found for herself was just as eye-catching in it's way.

"Why that?" he'd asked her, the only time he'd questioned a purchase (Daniel wasn't sure to be grateful or annoyed she didn't model anything for him. Mostly the former but, he was honest enough to admit, not entirely).

Catherine had perched the hat on her head and drawn the brim down over her eyes. "I am in disguise," she said solemnly. "This way no one will recognise me."

"So what was the hard part?" The cabbie closed the trunk and gestured towards the back seat.

"Then," Daniel said heavily, "She found the bookstore. Take us to the Ned Kelly please."

Along with stores, one of the many services associated with the drop port were cheap hostels. The Ned Kelly had been chosen by Daniel's father and the Morgan siblings had rented a small suite on the same wing until it was time to depart. Hauling the proceeds of several hours shopping up the stairs to the second floor room, Daniel hoped that Catherine would be convinced to stay in her room and read some of her new treasures rather than set out on a new expedition.

He'd just settled into one of the small armchairs and flipped the holovid onto a news channel when she emerged from her room, two of the larger store bags now bulging with clothes. "Where are you going?"

"Laundrette," Catherine informed him, raising the bags. "Spin and wash and dry and wear!"

Oh god. "You can't have dirtied them already, you only just bought them."

The woman pulled the bags back against her. "Washing!"

"Right, right." Daniel turned the holovid off - it was just another piece assuring everyone that the Lyran Guards had ended the rioting on Solaris - and pulled out his wallet. No, not enough change.

A detour down to the desk let him change a ten kroner note into forty quarters - more than he'd need this time but who knew what else Catherine would demand next? - and they went across to the street to the laundrette. A place as small as Ned Kelly's didn't have its own service but he knew from earlier in his visit that the laundrette ran on cash only, not smart cards.

Cat stared at the wall of washing machines with fascincation, but alarmingly little comprehension. Daniel rolled his eyes and guided her to the dispenser where she could get capsules of soap and conditioner to load in along with the clothes. It seemed to take her great concentration to feed each coin into that and then to the washing machines themselves - choosing to run two loads in adjacent free machines.

"Okay, and now we leave them for an hour or two," he explained with forced patience once both machines were operating. "I hope you brought a book or something." It wasn't a particularly bad place but only an idiot left their clothes here unsupervised.

Catherine reached into a pocket and pulled out well thumbed novel - she'd focused first on the second-hand racks at the bookstore - before opening it and carefully un-dogearing the corners.

There was a snort from the bench and Daniel saw one of the other customers was looking at them from the corner of the room. "Family?" the man asked wryly, shuffling cards he'd laid out on the bench.

"Something like that." He looked for something to do himself. Two hours of watching clothes spin around wasn't going to be very entertaining.

The other man nodded. "I'm getting bored of solitaire. Want to pass the time?"

"Why not." He moved to sit closer. "I'm Daniel, this is Catherine."

The blonde gave the man a casual wave without looking up from her book.

"Max Sears," the man said, shuffling the cards.

"Cy."

Both of them looked over at Catherine who ignored them both. Dan shrugged. "Don't mind her."

He got a nod of understanding. "Got it. You know how to play twenty-one?"

"Doesn't every school boy?"

"You might be surprised." Sears dealt two cards each and they studied their hands.

Duke of Steiner and seven of Davion for Daniel. "I'll hold," he said at a questioning look.

"Oh?" Sears dealt himself another card face up. Ten of Marik. He made a face. "Bust, dammit."

"It's not as if we're playing for money. What brings you to Zaniah?"

Sears dealt again. "I took the first ship I could get off Solaris VII when the fighting died down. Probably going to try to get a berth as far as Outreach."

"Going for mercenary?"

"I don't think it's a business that's going to shrink in the next few years. I lost just about everything but my bank account when the riots started."

"Rioters on the streets are one thing but when Mechwarriors join in..."

Sears made a pained face and then brightened slightly as he took the next hand. "Yeah. It's all very well in the arenas, but that got way out of hand. A lot of people are very unhappy."

"Both dead, so sad."

Daniel turned his head towards Catherine and saw her looking at them. "In your book?"

"No, Vandergriff and Searcy."

"Who... oh yes, the two who started it," he remembered. The championship bout had been between the Davion favorite 'Stormin' Michael Searcy' and an outside bet Lyran mechwarrior Victor Vandergriff. Their match, in the Steiner Colosseum had somehow rampaged through the spectator stands and then out into the streets. Fans and fellow gladiators had joined the battle, turning the multi-national Solaris City into a microcosm of the factionalism of the Inner Sphere.

"Chaos doesn't need a recipe, just a list of ingredients," Catherine claimed.

"And as you say, they're dead," Sears noted hollowly. "Finished their match and killed each other. What they deserved, some would say."

"Some would say, Searcy."

Daniel blinked. "Sears, not Searcy, Catherine."

"Am I wrong?" she asked quietly.

He shook his head. Not that he followed Solaris tournaments, but the champion match had been heavily advertised so he'd seen both mechwarrior's faces and... Daniel turned sharply to look at the man he'd been playing cards with.

Stormin' Searcy had been brash and confident, this man was white-faced and sweating. Otherwise... maybe...?

Catherine reached over and flipped the two cards Sears had dealt himself. Ace of Davions and the First Prince. "One more and you're bust, Mr. Searcy."

"Look," the man said quietly, voice full of dread. "I'm not asking for myself. If it gets out I'm not dead the riots could -"

The blonde shook her head. "How many mechwarriors on Outreach will know your face?"

"It's not my business, Mr. Sears." Maybe he could calm this down. "Catherine, you should leave him alone."

"My brother is hiring." Catherine pulled a pen out and scribbled her suite number on the Ace of Davion. "And we're leaving Zaniah very soon."

"Who are you?" Sears - or Searcy - demanded hoarsely.

"A turn of the cards that might be in your favour." Catherine put the pen away and returned to her book as if nothing had happened.

Dan and Searcy stared at each other then at her. Then by common assent they looked away and ignored each other until Searcy's washing was done and he bolted from the laundrette. But he departed into the Ned Kelly.

* * *

Chapter 6

Transient Jump Point, Zaniah III System

Skye Province, Lyran Alliance

13 December 3062

Peter waited for the airlock pressures to match before he opened the door that now connected the dropship Glowworm to Clovis Holstein's jumpship, the Bifrost. The last two days had been a rush of negotiations and even riding up from Zaniah's surface hadn't given him a chance to rest. In most systems the journey to a jump point would have been several days long but Zaniah's star had such a deep gravity well that it would have taken most of a month to reach the standard jump points above or below the system's plane.

Instead the Bifrost was waiting at a transient point between Zaniah III and its star. Barring those rare points times of their orbits when other planets in the system affected it, most trade to and from Zaniah III came through that jump point, regardless that it required more precise navigation.

There wasn't a lot of trade though - Bifrost was one of only two jumpships at the point right now. The difficulty of navigating to the system made it less favorable for transit and thus Zaniah remained something of a backwater despite its place on the border, an isolation that had spared it some of the worst of the Succession Wars.

On the other side of the lock he found Daniel Holstein and an older woman, probably his mother at a guess. The Bifrost's crew was tightly knit and he knew Clovis' wife was his deputy. "Permission to come aboard."

"Granted," the woman greeted him. "I'm Karla Holstein."

Peter pushed off and drifted across the interface into the jumpship. "I hope my sister hasn't been a bother." After she somehow picked up a washed up Solaris gladiator while getting her clothes washed he'd had Clovis send her on ahead to the Bifrost on their shuttle.

Karla gave him a searching look. "Follow me, please." The last word was clearly a mere formality.

What now? He looked at Daniel for an answer as he passed the man but the younger Holstein simply shrugged and crossed the airlock in the other direction.

Left clueless, Peter followed Karla into one of the narrow passages along the length of the Invader-class ship. As he'd expected she was leading him towards the habitation decks towards the prow but she stopped once they were out of easy earshot of the airlock.

"I know who you are, but I don't know what possessed you to bring your sister out here," she told him sharply.

Peter raised his hands defensively. "I can't exactly book her into a hospital, Mrs Holstein. Official attention could be deadly."

"So could digging around on a devastated colony. I had to go through the safety briefings three times with her before I was sure it had sunk in, 'Mr. Morgan'. Not because she isn't sharp, but because she can't concentrate for any extended period of time."

"Yes, I've noticed that." He ran one hand through his hair. "She's getting better, if slowly, but if need be we'll keep her aboard the Glowworm during the salvage operations. If we can get through the next few months then I should be able to get her set up somewhere safe with a therapist."

"And if those few months means she never recovers?" Karla persisted.

"Do you think she's competent to make her own decisions?" he snapped at her.

Her lips thinned. "Yes," she said reluctantly. "When she's managing to focus."

"I gave her the choice of staying at Saint Marinus, which would at least remain safe for her, or shipping for Arc Royal - one of the places she could probably get proper care and be safe - instead of coming with me. Catherine chose to come. And I'm not going to send her away if she feels safest with me."

Karla stared at Peter and for a moment he thought that she'd renew the argument but after a moment the tension left her shoulders. "I can't argue with that I suppose, but please be careful with her. You're not just her younger brother now, you're effectively her guardian as well."

He nodded and they continued as far as the habitation deck in silence. The quarters available were cramped - a narrow compartment with two bunks on each side, each given a little privacy with an opaque curtain, a small washroom and some lockers for personal items. One curtain was drawn when Peter entered and his sister's recruit was sitting in one of the others, an electronic book-reader in his hands.

"Mr Searcy."

"Sir." The man left the bunk and stood to attention, confirming Peter's guess he'd been regular military before going to Solaris.

"My sister?" he asked, nodding towards the closed bunk.

"Yes, sir. I believe she's asleep."

Peter nodded. "How much do you know about what we're doing? I realise Catherine more or less dragged you into this."

"I gather it's a salvage mission in a hostile environment. One of the old Terran Hegemony worlds?"

"Yes, that's right. You're more likely to be using a workmech or an exoskeleton than a BattleMech, which'll be a bit of a step down for you."

"Well, a change is as good as a rest. I didn't have any work lined up so this is as good as anything."

"We'll probably be moving on to Outreach or somewhere nearby after this so if things don't work out longer term you'll have saved yourself a few jump fares on the way there," Peter told him. "I take it you'd prefer to keep calling yourself Sears?" Technically false papers meant Peter was aiding and abetting a crime but he couldn't bring himself to care about that under the circumstances.

Searcy made a face. "It might be best, at least until things calm down a little."

"You may have an unreasonable expectation of the universe there."

Slinging his bag into one of the lockers, Peter stretched out on one of the vacant bunks and reached for the curtain. Then a chiming noise came from his comm.

"Yes?"

"Mr Morgan, could you come to the command deck?" Clovis didn't sound particularly apologetic. "Captain Colium wants to discuss picking up some supplies en route."

Peter rubbed his eyes mournfully. This was going to be worse than a field exercise in simulated battalion command, wasn't it? "Okay, I'll be there as soon as I can."

He left the bunk and went to the washroom to clean his face with a wipe. And I don't have a staff, not even an aide to help me. His mind went to Sears. Or maybe...

"Come along," he instructed the mechwarrior. "I may as well fill you in on some of the details of what we'll be doing."

The poor sap obediently shut down his bookreader and followed, not foreseeing the paperwork Peter intended to stick him with.


	2. New Dallas

_Like how a single word_

_Can make a heart open_

_I might only have one match_

_But I can make an explosion_

Chapter 7

Caddo City, New Dallas

Free Worlds League Space

31 December 3062

Finding New Dallas wasn't particularly a problem - Michael Searcy hadn't even heard of it but Captain Holstein of the Bifrost had the system in his charts. Possibly for smuggling, but if so, Michael wasn't about to enquire. That could be a good way to get invited out of an airlock. However comical the dwarf might look at times, he clearly commanded ferocious loyalty from his crew.

Bifrost's charts even included orbital data on the planet, which Holstein cheerfully admitted was a matter of luck. Otherwise they'd have had to run an astronomical search of the approximate habitable zones of the star system, which could have been time-consuming.

"What a shithole," Mael Colium muttered from the bridge of the Glowworm as the dropship made preparations to land. The captain was strapped into his seat, technically, but he'd loosened the restraints enough to have his feet up on one of the consoles. "Begging your pardon, Emma."

"I've heard the word before," the woman said from her own position. She was trim and squared away - if Michael hadn't seen how she looked at her husband, currently engrossed in plotting the landing, he might have made a pass at the dusky-skinned ship's officer.

"Mm-mmm," Colium continued. "It's hot down there, Morgan. You sure this is the place?"

Ardan Morgan glanced at the orbital imagery. "Yep. North-pointing peninsula from an isthmus, a city with domes. It matches the description we have perfectly."

"When you say hot," Michael asked warily, "Do you mean temperature or radiation? This place got nuked, right?"

"Hard to say from up here on the latter." Colium reached over and flicked the scan over to infrareds. "Local temperature's higher than I'd expect for a world that had cities like that though. Must have been miserable as Texas."

"You've never been to Texas, sir."

"I saved up years for a vacation on Terra and then the Word took over, Emma," he grumbled. "And this is apparently as close as I'm ever gonna get. Dallas was in Texas, I looked that up."

Ardan shook his head. "I'm guessing they had some sort of terraforming that cooled the climate and that it's collapsed since then. Caddo City was the original settlement but most of the population was on the inland sea further south."

"We're locked in," the ship's pilot said from his part of the Mule-class dropship's bridge. Whether he'd ignored the conversation or been genuinely oblivious to it wasn't clear to Michael. Burt Alleyne seemed to be in a world all his own when he took the Glowworm's controls. "Five minute window before I have to replot."

Colium glanced at Ardan, shrugged and then straightened up, tightening his restraints. "Take us down."

The Glowworm rocked lightly as they hit the atmosphere and started to bite into it. Michael could have sworn he felt the heat as a halo of fire engulfed them but when he checked the thermometer, the bridge temperature hadn't budged. Then the rocking intensified.

"Nothing to worry about," Colium called to him. "We're just under-loaded. Burt has it under control."

Michael gulped and nodded. The Glowworm had a notional full load of over eleven thousand tons - more than an Overlord-class military transport, but right now it had all that volume and a total mass closer to that of a much smaller Union-class dropship.

Gravity took hold and his stomach churned as 'down' became about thirty degrees away from the vertical orientation of the compartment.

"Visual on our landing zone," Burt declared. "Looks fine." One of the screens lit up to display the derelict remains of what had probably been a busy space port. There were runways for aerodyne dropships and shuttles, one blocked by what had once been a passenger liner, and dozens of firmacrete pads for more spherical craft to come down directly. "Can't speak for what it looks like on the ground, but those pads should be solid. You care which one we use."

"Make sure we have plenty of room on all directions," Colium said, cutting across Ardan, who had been about to speak. "I want plenty of room if anything's been undermined from the support structures."

Michael saw Ardan lean back in his chair and force himself not to speak. The younger man's temper was under close rein, which was good. He wasn't sure the redhead really grasped how much he was depending on the willing cooperation of Colium and his crew. The Morgans were obviously part of some noble house and neither seemed to have been out much in the real world, outside the protections of their family.

"Where's Holstein's shuttle?"

Emma adjusted her controls as the Glowworm came closer to proper verticality. "A good safe distance, sir," she answered her captain's question. "I'd guess he'll come down maybe a kilometer south of us."

"Hmm. His risk to take, that little toy doesn't weigh much of anything." Colium still seemed relieved that the fusion torch of the shuttle wasn't anywhere near his dropship. At close range, the drive would have ripped through the light hull of the freighter and done untold damage.

The view of the dropoort below was growing but not as quickly as Burt brought more power to the engines, slowing their descent. "Deploy landing gear," he ordered.

His wife activated a control and after most of a minute nodded sharply. "Landing gear locked."

"Slow and steady," Colium warned. "Have us ready to take off if the pad can't take it."

"We'll come down as lightly as a leaf on the wind," the pilot promised.

If so, Michael would have hated to see the leaves where Burt came from, but more than three thousand tons of metal came to rest against the landing pad with far less impact than bringing a Pillager assault 'Mech down on its jump-jets. The man flipped switches. "Maneuvering thrusters off, main thrust..." He glanced back at the captain and got a nod. "Off."

The engines' roar, a sound that Michael had largely come to ignore, cut out sharply and the Glowworm vibrated briefly as it settled against the pad.

"Once again, we have cheated death." Colium leant over his controls. "And the radiation count is... well, worse than a day at the beach but not much. More a matter of the thin atmosphere than residuals from nukes, I'd guess."

"Mech cockpits get pretty warm too," Michael said, unbuckling himself. He felt light on his feet, not unsurprising given New Dallas had a surface gravity only about five-sixths that of Terra.

"It's closer to boiling than freezing out there and the atmosphere's thick with carbon dioxide and methane," Emma clarified. "We can use the lower cargo deck as an airlock but this is going to be pretty miserable for anyone outside. Pressure suits might not be required but I'd recommend them over just going out in a mask."

Ardan shook his head. "We don't have enough for everyone, so masks are going to have to be enough. Besides, in this heat, the suits would have us sweating too much."

Michael glanced at the clock. "Three hours until the New Year," he noted. "I suggest we let the crews get used to the gravity and maybe take a walk around to acclimatize before we start any serious work."

His boss squinted at the screens. "It's close to mid-day local and given the heat, we're probably going to do most of our work in the twilight hours. We can let the pad cool but I want survey teams out and checking for access to the domes in... call it four hours."

"You're really in that sort of hurry?"

Ardan rubbed his chin. "A few hours might not matter in the grand scheme of things, or it could be all the difference in the world. Besides, the sooner we find the cache the sooner we can be out of here."

"Acclimatization isn't a joke, sir," Michael warned. "We could lose one of our work-mechs if the pilot stumbles."

"I thought you were some sort of hotshot," the other man said lightly. "You can take one out and I'll take the other. I'm not going to take a tumble in a frigging workmech."

Michael sighed. "Fine, you're the boss."

Ardan gave him a friendly slap on the shoulder, almost knocking him over, as he headed out of the bridge.

Behind him, Colium gave him a shrug, loosened his restraints and kicked his feet up again. "He can say what he wants but my crew have the night off. It's the New Year."

"What drives that man anyway?" asked Emma as her husband, also unstrapped, moved over to wrap his arms around her.

It was a good question, Michael thought as he headed out of the door. Ardan Morgan was almost as much of a puzzle as his sister.

Last time you worked for someone with secrets, you got a lot of trouble out of it, a little voice warned him. Michael blinked it away. Ardan was close mouthed, but he was nothing like the oily Drew Hasek-Davion who'd employed him on Solaris VII.

* * *

Chapter 8

Caddo City, New Dallas

Free Worlds League Space

5 January 3063

Moving carefully so as not to dislodge his mask, Daniel wiped sweat from his forehead. He was wearing a mechwarrior's cooling vest inside the confines of the construction exoskeleton but it didn't change the fact that New Dallas had a surface temperature nearly sixty degrees higher on average than Terra did and Caddo City wasn't in a particularly temperate location to begin with. Only the fact it was surrounded on three sides by ocean to absorb the heat made it bearable at all.

"We're almost through," Frye called from the other exoskeleton, shovelling away debris left by the drill mounted on the workmech they were supporting. "Once more should do it."

Frye was wearing no more than Daniel was - shorts and a cooling vest - but the sight had stopped being titillating long ago. He helped her scrape away the last fragments and then they backed up to let 'Max Sears' apply the drill again.

True to the Glowworm engineer's prediction, this time the drill dug less than a metre deep before resistance stopped. Controlling the 'Mech carefully, Sears withdrew the drill and then applied it again twice, widening the hole. Frye and Daniel backed up in case the structure broke down under the drilling and the mass of the workmech, but there was disarmingly little reaction from the dome's floor.

"Oh..." His voice cracked and he wished he could just take the mask off and drink freely. Instead all he could do was suck a trickle from the straw built into it for situations like this - enough to lubricate his throat but hardly satisfying. "Okay, let's see what we've found so far."

It was the thirteenth hole dug and the fifth to find a cavity beneath the massive crystalline domes that had once housed the nascent New Dallas colony. None of the domes was still intact but they were unsafe for the Glowworm, which had to remain kilometers away at the drop-port.

"Your turn to go first," Frye said with some relief and started securing cables to the nearby buildings. Daniel let her attach the cables to his exoskeleton and watched as Sears marched the workmech away only to return lugging a pair of A-frames and a connecting beam.

The simple crane arrangement was easily erected above the hole and Daniel marched around it, leaving enough slack in the three cables that were now attached to the upper spine of the exoskeleton for Sears to lift them up and over the beam.

"Ready?" asked Frye, rhetorically for she'd already activated the winch.

Daniel gulped and tried not to lose his lunch as the cables pulled him towards the hole and then up off the ground, dangling over it. He swung back and forth for what seemed to be forever until the motion died away. "Lower two metres," he ordered.

The cable played out and he descended steadily until his shoulders were level with the ground. "Another two metres."

Down again. The lights on his exoskeleton played out on unrecognisable angles and objects, too confusing to tell how near they were. "Wait one." He played one of the lights down and confirmed the floor below was clear. A laser rangefinder told him he was about twenty metres up.

"Five metres," he said cautiously and watched as the cable spooled out.

"Found something?" asked Sears. He sounded indecently comfortable, but then he was inside a sealed cockpit. He didn't even need to wear a mask all the time, the lucky rat.

Daniel played the lights around again. Walls in three directions, nothing visible in the other, at least within easy reach of his lights. "Some sort of storage maybe." He didn't want to get his hopes up. "It's tall enough for 'Mechs... give me another ten metres -" The line jerked out and he squawked the next word: "Slowly!"

"Sorry!" Frye apologised and the descent steadied. Daniel forced himself to remain still, he'd started to sway and that could be bad. The walls were broken by catwalks, he saw, and framing that could possibly be 'Mech bays. If so they'd been stripped of working gear and lay empty. Another disappointment.

"Okay, gradually give me another five or six metres," he requested.

The floor when he reached it was reassuringly steady. "Okay, definitely part of a larger complex," he said guardedly. "Not sure how large it is."

Flashing his torch around he saw something sprawled on the floor. Whatever it was, it was huge - taller lying down than he was in his exoskeleton. "I think I'll need some help to look around."

"Roger," Sears agreed. "I'll call in Mr Morgan and his team."

Daniel disconnected the cables and began to pace out the echoingly vast space. There were more of the shapes - all wrapped in some sort of white plastic, all broadly the same size... twelve metres long, at least five wide and more than three tall. Each was laid partially within the bays and partly extending out into the wide central corridor. Maybe he'd found a vehicle bay of some kind.

There were six on either side from his landing point to the wall at one end, but the broad storage area extended considerably in the other direction.

By the time he was back, a pair of exoskeletons were coming down and Daniel waited for them to reach the ground.

"What have you found?" asked Ardan Morgan. He played his own searchlights around.

"I don't know. This might have been a Mech hanger once I guess. But what's actually in here, I can't guess."

"Easy way to find out," Frye offered and deployed a pair of shears. "Let's cut this covering off and take a look."

Behind the mask, Ardan's eyes were eager but his words were cautious. "Don't cut through the contents. And make sure you can re-seal it if we need to."

"I brought duct tape," the woman declared and pulled a corner of the plastic wrapping away. The shears cut a little and then she had to relax them. "Damn, this stuff is tough."

"It's a good sign. Someone wrapped it for storage so it may be valuable," Ardan noted. He stepped aside as two more exoskeletons lowered. One occupant was visibly smaller than the other - Daniel's father. Looking down from above were others waiting to join them, Catherine Morgan's blonde hair easily identifiable among them.

Daniel started to help Frye, cutting away from her original incision as more prospectors descended. Eventually they'd cut enough away to open the incision and Daniel peeled it back and lit up the contents.

"Jesus, what is that stuff!" one of the team exclaimed, eyeing the slug-like contents visible inside the wrapping.

"Myomers," Clovis said eagerly. "It's a myomer bundle, this is some sort of industrial or military 'Mech."

Ardan nodded slowly. "Paydirt."

"If so, why lay out out flat?" asked Daniel. "And why isn't there any armour or at least a chassis?" It was unsettling like finding a giant body skinned.

"The owners can't have planned on going to all this trouble to keep it wrapped," one of the prospectors suggested. "Check to see if there's a seam that's supposed to be cut open and we can look at the whole thing."

Workers spread out around the frame, lifting and pulling the wrap. Eventually one found a blue line that had been under a fold in the wrap. Fresh shears made quick work of it and together, a half-dozen exoskeletons dragged the wrapping off it.

"It's a 'Mech alright." Ardan sounded chastened. "Not sure what type without the armour on it though."

"And no weapons." Daniel walked along the side and examined it. "Barely any arms for that matter."

His father started unfastening his exoskeleton. "Let me take a closer look."

Daniel moved around to help his father and was halfway through removing the salvage gear when Ardan raised his voice in alarm. "Where's my sister?"

A quick headcount turned up one missing member of the team: Cat Morgan and her exoskeleton. "We have footprints here in from the dust we dropped digging through," one of the prospectors noted and pointed along the store room. "She went that way."

Their boss closed his eyes for a moment and when he opened them they were fierce. "Okay. Clovis, stay here and figure out what we're dealing with. Who's lowest on air for their masks?"

Comparisons turned up that it was Daniel and Frye, which made sense as they'd not replenished since they began helping Sears dig this hole.

"Right, you two head back up and get fresh air and some water," Ardan ordered. "The rest of us will start surveying this place. Whoever finds my sister let me know."

It was tempting to insist on staying but water sounded real good right now. When he heard about the cache Daniel had envisaged powerful warmachines lined up, polished and ready for action given just a little preparation. The way they'd been in the Helm Cache according to Gray Death Legion accounts of that found. This stripped carcass of a BattleMech was far from that.

Sears, still in the workmech, hauled them up out of the hole. "What did you find?" he asked. "Some sort of 'Mech."

"About half of one that we've unwrapped so far," Daniel told him. "Whoever stored them seems to have stripped everything useful."

"I wouldn't go that far," Frye disagreed. "There's still all that myomer, the structural framing and it looked like it had a reactor. And there's, what... a couple of dozen of them?"

"At least that we found so far, yeah."

"That's got to be worth at least ninety thousand each, more if the reactors are in working order. And then there's historical value," she said optimistically. "It might not be what Mr Morgan was hoping for but at least he's turning a profit."

Daniel grunted as they freed themselves from the cables. "Maybe." The myomers hadn't looked corroded so that was something, he guessed. "I wouldn't want to be Cat Morgan when her brother catches her though."

"Oh yeah. He's the type to worry and let that feed his temper," the engineer said with a roll of her eyes. "Come on, let's get back to the shelter. Soon as I have more air I'm going back down there!"

* * *

Chapter 9

Caddo City, New Dallas

Free Worlds League Space

6 January 3063

There was a lot more to the space under the dome than Peter had expected. He shouldn't have been surprised given the Star League was infamous for digging deep into the ground for military bases, factories and almost everything else. The long hangar had opened into a central hub area with five other openings, two of them more storage and the others ramps leading up (once) or down (twice). Even if the ramp up was an exit - much easier than the hole they'd dug for extracting the 'Mech chassis they'd found - that indicated at least one more level.

Naturally, Catherine's footprints had led downwards.

He played his searchlight across the markings on the walls. They were obscure, probably to confuse an intruder like himself, but the basic logic matched a military base. Peter followed the footprints into an administrative section and to his annoyance, after wandering around for a whole and after he'd entered, Catherine had left because the footprints of her departure hadn't been there when he entered.

"Maybe she has private business, chief," one of the prospectors suggested. "Chasing a woman doesn't always work out. Wait and she'll be back."

"And if she has an accident and she can't?" he snapped. "See if the computers are working. Maybe there's a map - or a manifest of what's been stored here."

The halls echoed with his exoskeleton's feet as he stomped it out and after her again only to lose the trail in a hangar full of what looked like self-propelled guns - each missing the artillery guns that should have been mounted on their upper hulls. There was less dust here for some reason. Maybe the air conditioning had been better or maybe these sections had been cleaned out a few times.

Returning to the hub of the level - the third one down, no less - Peter halted his exoskeleton and tried to listen for any sounds. Nothing. "Catherine!" he shouted. No reply. He jammed his speakers to maximum and shouted into them. "CATHERINE!"

"-et-an?" came a distant reply.

Huffing indignantly, he marched off in its direction, finding a battered down door into what looked as if it might have been office space at one time. More broken doors led him at last to a room right at the back, Catherine standing just outside it, a cylindrical casing held in both her exoskeleton's hands.

"Found you!" she said brightly.

"No, I found you."

She frowned, considered and then nodded cautiously. "That's right. I found... hmm." Through the mask she looked down at the casing. "Ah, I found this." She held it up triumphantly.

"Dammit, Catherine! What were you thinking?" He moved his hand to knock it aside but thought better of it. "You shouldn't go off on your own. What if you had an accident."

"I'm not alone. You're here."

"But I wasn't with you until now."

"oh."

"Yes. Oh."

"Who was with you?" she asked, looking around.

"...no one," he admitted grudgingly. "Look, that's not the point. Is there anything here that isn't junk?"

His sister considered and then tucked the casing under one arm, before shrugging helplessly.

"Yeah, that's what I thought. These aren't mechs, they're wrecks. I should have just headed to Arc Royal or somewhere like that."

"Found this."

"Yes, very good," he snapped. "I'm sure that that makes up for all the time we've wasted grubbing around here." Peter threw up his hands. "Come on. We're headed back, how much air do you have left?"

Cat squinted down at the dial inside her mask. "Half?" she said questioningly.

"Right. Good job I found you." He didn't even have that much left. "At least this crap'll cover the costs. We'll get into the Federated Suns and head for Kathil. Clovis said there was fighting there between George Hasek's people and the Archon's."

"Kathil's a mess," Catherine said in a lecturing tone.

"Yeah, but I can probably get someone to take you to New Syrtis from there. George'll at least keep you safe. Maybe he can figure out who it is on New Avalon too."

"It's a qu-quagmire."

Peter grabbed her exoskeleton by the wrist. "Come on," he snapped and half-pulled her after him, up the ramps and back to the original entry point.

Searcy must have noticed his tone and didn't bother with any small-talk as he used the winch to hoist the two of them back up and out of the hangar. "Do you know where Clovis Holstein is?" Peter asked him.

"Back in the shelter, sir."

"Right." He took a deep breath. "I'll get a fresh mask and then we can see about finding the original entrance. We'll need that if we're getting anything out of there."

They'd set up a temporary shelter inside one of the more intact buildings under the dome, somewhat hampered by the local air-pressure. Peter's ears popped unpleasantly as they went through two separate airlocks necessary to get in. Even after that the air inside smelt rotten, which approximately everyone on the expedition had complained about to him.

"Ah, Ardan!" Clovis looked up from the technician's computer he was studying as they climbed out of the exoskeletons. "You found our lost lamb, I see."

"Lamb?" Cat made a face. "Horrible ration packs."

"What?"

"She doesn't like the roast lamb ration packs," Peter translated. "So what did we find?"

The dwarf set down the computer. "As far as I can tell, the 'mechs in the room we found are all the same model: the MCK-6S."

Peter blinked. "The what?"

"Mackies," Clovis expanded. "And a very early model. I'd not be surprised if we found MCK-5S models as well, the first production line version the Hegemony ever deployed."

"Entire battalions of them?"

"Basically, yes. Back then it was normal to fill out companies and battalions with a single design - there wasn't such a great variety of 'Mech designs to begin with."

"And these are early models... museum pieces?"

Clovis hesitated and then nodded his head. "I'd say so, yes. We're talking first generation designs. The armour's mostly been stripped but it's inferior to the basic types we use today. The cockpits are... well, they're probably functional with a little work but they're bulkier and cluttered with systems that fell out of use centuries ago."

"And the weapons."

"My best guess is that they were stripped for use as replacements on newer machines," Clovis admitted. "Same with the armour. You've basically got the core systems still - reactor, gyro, myomer bundles except in a few cases - but by mass I'd guess about half of each 'Mech is gone."

"You can fix them," Cat offered optimistically.

Peter shook his head. "With a mountain of parts maybe. And the reactors... wasn't there something about the reactors back then... I don't recall exactly."

"They had an efficiency problem," agreed Clovis. "And the shielding wasn't brilliant, mostly because they wound up having to use overpowered engines to get the same effect. Anyway, it'd be a moot point. I've never even seen a manual on the Mackie, I'd pretty much have to tear one apart and document it piece by piece to do anything with it and that would take years. No offense, but..."

"More time than you have?"

"Well, more than I care to invest in it. No offense."

Peter shrugged. "You've been more than helpful. It's not your fault Catherine led us to obsolete wrecks."

Turning back to her exoskeleton, Cat tried to pull the casing it was still carrying away. "Here, here!"

"What?"

She pulled again, staggering as the mass exceeded her expectations, nearly dropping the end she was pulling and barely managing to lower it to the floor while the other end remained supported by the exoskeleton. "Here, this is it."

"This is what?" Peter asked, walking over and with an effort pulling the other end out of the exoskeleton's grip. "What are you talking about?"

Clovis studied it and took a sharp breath. "It's a computer core. Where did you find that?"

"Buried," Cat declared. "Buried treasure! Like pirates. Pirate data!"

"I'm pretty sure there weren't any pirates around here," Clovis told her patiently. He plugged a cord in from his computer. "A bit too near to the centre of the Inner Sphere."

"Maybe in the twenty-third century." Peter thought back to long ago lessons. "This was outside the old Terran Alliance after they withdrew to their oldest colonies so things were pretty wild for a few generations."

"It's encoded. Pretty old security though." The dwarf typed away for a moment. "One science we never really lost, cryptography. Our computers back in the 3020s might not have held a candle to the Star League's but security programmes advanced a whole lot."

"Military espionage drove that I guess."

"Yup. This was probably really tight security back in the twenty-sixth century but today, feh." He typed in the final command and data began to appear on his screen. "...oho."

"What?"

"Manuals. All sorts of technical data," Clovis told him.

"On obsolete Terran Hegemony designs," Peter asked wryly.

"Not just them. Seeing Draconian, Capellan, Suns... looks like a database of technical data on every mech and vehicle they could scrape together. Sorted chronologically for some damn reason." He scrolled to the bottom and whistled. "Right the way up to the 2760s. Must have had a feed from somewhere else because this place has been sealed up longer than that."

"Fix the 'Mechs?" asked Cat hopefully.

"Maybe. It'd make it a lot easier."

"But still grossly inferior."

"Yeah. Sorry, but an engine that big is overkill for a 'Mech that size. I could probably fix the efficiency issue but it's still wasting..." Clovis paused.

"What?"

Clovis steepled his fingers. "I'd have to run some numbers. And we'd still need hundreds of tons of parts - armour and weapons."

Catherine dropped to her knees, lowered her head and kowtowed towards the dwarf. "Help us Obi-Wan Kenobi. You're our only hope."

"Oh come on, Cat, you're embarrassing him."

"I'm not embarrassed," the red-faced Clovis protested. "Although Karla would kill me if she knew a woman our kids' age was throwing herself at me."

* * *

Chapter 10

Caddo City, New Dallas

Free Worlds League Space

9 February 3063

It took the better part of two weeks to dig out the original entrance to the bunker. Twelve days of work and one day off in the middle as everyone piled back into the Glowworm with not even Peter determined enough to make them keep working under the conditions.

He was as sick of the smell and the heat as any of them.

Clovis Holstein didn't seem to mind any of that but that was because he was holed up in his shuttle with the computer core and a datalink up to the Bifrost. He was probably the only one though and he did have the benefit of being in a sealed environment.

In the meantime though, they could finally start emptying out the cache using prime movers and a road that wasn't in the best of shape to say the least.

"Say, Morgan."

Peter pulled the radio handset off the cab of the truck he was riding shotgun of. "This is Morgan."

Mael Colium didn't sound amused. "You know anything about another shuttle coming down here?"

"No, I don't. Is it the Bifrost's other shuttle?" He didn't find that likely - not unless something was badly wrong because if something did go wrong that shuttle was the crew's only way to leave the jumpship.

"No, I asked Captain Holstein and he says his crew still have theirs."

Peter bounced his head off the back of his seat - deliberately rather than incidentally as had been the case all too often on this route. "Then I guess we're going to have visitor. How big a shuttle is it? And how long do we have?"

"Not more than a few minutes and it looks like an ST-46 or similar, so worst case is a platoon of battle armour or maybe a couple of light tanks."

"And right now we have... what to defend ourselves?"

"Small arms," Colium said flatly. "Which is a loser's game anyway you cut it. How long until you get here?"

The truck rounded a corner and passed what had used to be the dropport gate. "About the same as the shuttle." He leant forwards and craned his neck. "I see it. Looks like it's landing on the runway. I'll see if some sweet reason won't deal with that."

"Sweet reason?" Colium laughed bitterly. "Better than guns we don't have. Good luck, Mr Morgan."

Beside Peter, Frye jerked the wheel, sending the truck off the route they'd cleared back to the Glowworm and towards the shuttle. "I hope you're a silver-tongued devil, Mr Morgan."

"That makes two of us. Have you ever been shot at before?" he asked. She didn't look or sound like a soldier.

"Twice and neither time better armed than now. First when I was twelve and the Smoke Jaguars rolled over my home town and then when Prince Victor's troops rolled over the Smoke Jaguars."

Peter shook his head. "Well I hope this goes better for us than those two."

"I'm alive, aren't I?"

"Let's keep it that way."

Frye pulled the truck up as the shuttle touched down and they watched as it rolled down the runway towards the wrecked dropship, halting not far short of it. "Is that ComStar colours?" she asked.

Peter grimaced. "Their uglier cousins, Frye. The Word of Blake have arrived. Let's hope they're just selling copies of their holy texts." He checked his mask, hoping it would hide his face and climbed down out of the cab.

Ahead of him the shuttle began to turn around and the hatch on the side opened. Fortunately the man who exited it wasn't waring battle armour - or any kind of combat gear. Instead, save for a mask much like Peter's he wore the robes of an Adept, not so very different from those seen at an HPG station under ComStar.

"Good day," the Adept called.

Peter took a sniff of the canned air in his mask. "As good as it gets around here, Adept. Welcome to New Dallas."

The man walked closer. "I believe that that's my line, Mr..."

"Morgan." Peter offered his hand. "You're welcoming me? I thought you'd just arrived."

"Here in Caddo City, yes." The man accepted and shook it briefly. "But New Dallas itself is another matter."

Camp... robes... Peter thought back to Catherine telling him about New Dallas. Was this what she'd meant. "Ah, you have an outpost here?"

"Exactly, good sir. I can't say we watch the skies very closely, it's primarily a prayer retreat, but when we picked up some side-scatter from your datalink we thought that we should investigate. After all, it wouldn't be the first time someone found themselves stranded jumping through an uninhabited system like this one."

"And like the good samaritans that you are..."

"We do like to help those in need," the adept agreed. "I take it that you're not in distress."

"Not more than usual," Frye assured him cheerfully, having also dismounted from the truck.

The Adept took her in, all one hundred sixty centimetres of her wearing no more than she had to in the heat and took a deep breath. "That is pleasing to hear, Miss...?"

"I'm just Frye," she said cheerfully. "And you're..."

"Adept Coltrane," the man said after a moment. "I take it then that is a salvage operation?"

"Indeed." Peter thought a moment. "There's a bunker full right under the dome. We've got a fine example of what we've found back here. Come and take a look."

They went to the back and Peter opened the duct-taped hole they'd made in the covering of the 'Mech. "What you're looking at was probably the fastest 'Mech in the Inner Sphere when it was first fielded."

"Really?" The adept shook his head. "I have to be honest, I find that hard to believe."

"Well, that was back in 2443." Peter let a little of his smile show. "I dare say there may have been just a little bit of wear and tear over the last six hundred years."

"Do you know, I think you may be right. Is this junk... I mean, museum piece, really worth the time to haul it away?"

"Museum is right," Peter agreed. "And for any they don't it's still hundreds of tons of high value material as scrap."

"And then there's the core," Frye added.

Right in that moment, Peter could have punched her.

"A core, you don't mean like Helm?" The adept's eyes were wide.

"Something like that, but not as new."

"Yeah. It's been locked up since back before the Star League, but it should have all the information needed to rebuild these old 'Mechs good as new," Peter offered. "As well as a good number of other designs of someone wants to see what their own states were building at the same time."

"Well I wouldn't have thought that that would be worth all that much," the Adept admitted, "But it seems as if you've figured out how to make a profit off a find that most would have written off."

"I'd like to think I'm shrewd businessman," Peter assured him. "I'd offer you hospitality but this is kind of a working camp."

"Oh, we're all in favour of hard work." Coltrane cracked his knuckles. "Prayer is enhanced by some good old sweat in my experience. You won't offend me by that."

"Then why don't we give you a little tour," he offered the adept. With a bit of luck, Catherine would be out of sight and Coltrane wouldn't investigate Holstein's shuttle. The dwarf was even more distinctive than Peter's sister.

Two jumps to Terra, he thought. Or coming the other way. It's a safe bet that there's a working HPG here on New Dallas. Let's hope that they don't have anyone closer because the chances are mighty slim that the Word of Blake will be inclined to believe that the core and the 'Mechs are scrap.

That means we have two weeks, give or take, to finish loading and get out of here.

* * *

Chapter 11

Nadir Jump Point, Oliver System

Free Worlds League Space

22 February 3063

"Are you sure this is going to work?" Peter asked, eyeing the lashed together rig secured to Glowworm's deck. It had taken the dropship four days to reach the Bifrost, which was waiting for them with it's Kearny-Fuchida drive fully charged and a fresh IFF block that claimed it was a Combine-registered ship. No one would particularly doubt that story in Oliver, since the system was within a couple of jumps of the Draconis Combine and House Kurita was still paying the League back for wartime loans of equipment from the Clan Invasion.

"The simulator or the refit?" Clovis Holstein wiped his hands clean on a rag. "In the first case, it's not a proper simulator - I can't get a fully articulated rig in here and Captan Colium would probably have my guts if I tried."

"Better than five tons bouncing around on my decks? I would indeed," agreed the dropship's owner and commander, who had turned up to watch what promised to be a spectacle.

"But all the controls are working and any cockpits, even as old as these one, can run simulations." The dwarf tucked the rag away. "All I needed to do was wire them up and fiddle with the coding a little to reflect what we're going to be doing with them."

Peter rubbed his chin. "Yeah. I know a lot of mechwarrior families keep a spare cockpit rigged up like this, it's better than no simulator at all. I was thinking more of what you have in mind for the Mackies. I've never heard of this sort of refit."

"It isn't factory level work, kid. But your sister gave me the idea that if the engine is overpowered, then shaving off some weight to take full advantage of that could turn these lemons into something pretty decent. It all depends on if you can get the parts."

"I think I can manage." Peter went over to the row of four dismounted cockpits and opened the hatch of the one marked with a 1. "Sears, you want to try the other one? It's been a while since I strapped on a Mech so I should try and get some of the rust off."

The other mechwarrior glanced around. "I don't see why not. Don't expect me to go easy on you, though."

"In your dreams, hotshot."

The inside of the cockpit was a strange experience - the basic controls hadn't changed much over the centuries but the Mackie had additional displays, particularly detailing the status of the 'Mech. The holodisplay that overlaid tactical data for the mechwarrior was bulkier than Peter was familiar with and projected data across a 180 degree arc rather than the standard 160.

Still, the seat and neurohelmet were as he'd expected, even if the latter wouldn't actually be doing anything. It felt wrong to strap in without stripping down to shorts and cooling vest, but the cockpit wouldn't heat up the way an active 'Mech's would. Maybe it was more like one of the arcade simulators he'd heard about while at the Nagelring - a place for mall-rats to play at being mechwarriors.

The screens lit up, displaying a canal, bridged by a monorail track. Low commercial buildings this side, apartment blocks on the other and beyond them towering skyscrapers. City-fighting, not exactly his favorite exercise but one that would be all too important if they reached New Avalon.

No. They would get there, he told himself. They had to. What Catherine predicted was a war that would be fought for five years across more than eight hundred worlds, killing millions and utterly ending the dreams of his parents.

The 'Mech status lit up and he checked his weapon payload. An extended range laser in the centre chest, a particle projection cannon in the left arm and an ultra autocannon opposite. The high weapon mountings of the arms reminded him of his JagerMech from back in Skye.

"Straight skirmish," Clovis' voice announced. "Good luck, both of you."

Peter pushed the pedals down and the Mackie lumbered forwards, slashing across the shallow canal and towards the centre of the city. He flipped from visual light to infrared and then night vision. All seemed to work. Magscan also worked when he tried it, but it was next to useless surrounded by buildings with metal frameworks inside them, which was accurate enough.

Nothing interrupted Peter as he marched the Mackie in among the city blocks, following the roads and leaving a trail of incidental destruction as the blocky feet smashed through ground cars and street lights with equal ease. At least he hadn't battered any buildings yet...

A high pitched squeal and red flashes on the holodisplay alerted him that he was under attack. The view shook, simulating the shaking he'd normally have experienced as a second 'Mech unloaded into him from his left rear quarter.

Swivelling, Peter brought his PPC to bear and discharged it, following with the chest laser and then his autocannon as each crossed the corner where the other 'Mech had fired from.

The PPC dug into the barrel chest of Searcy's Mackie but the laser missed as the other Mechwarrior backpedalled into cover and the autocannon blew a fourth-floor corner office apart. Some of the shrapnel may have hit the retreating 'Mech but Peter wouldn't count on that.

He pushed the Mackie after the other warrior, pleased by the speed. From its size and the reactor he'd expected it to handle sluggishly, like Uncle Morgan's old Atlas. Instead, the Mackie was only fractionally less responsible than a JagerMech. Hopefully the reality would match up to what Clovis had programmed into the sims.

As he pounded towards the corner he checked his damage. About a third of the protection over his PPC was gone and a ragged scar had been gouged through the armour of the Mackie's left leg. A smattering of other damage suggested light missile or cluster round damage - he hadn't seen missile contrails which suggested Searcy's Mackie had a LB 10-X autocannon.

He reached the corner just in time to see Searcy backing around the building's next corner, having fallen back almost behind it. Peter fired his PPC a fraction early and the brief beam of charged particles barely clipped the searchlight on the Mackie's right shoulder. The laser shot was lower, scarring the chest alongside the damage from his earlier shot and the autocannon rounds spread across Searcy's own autocannon mount and the building behind him.

Keeping the momentum up, Peter ignored the autocannon burst that crashed across the left chest of his 'Mech and pushed the Mackie as fast as he could. Backing up was always slower, so he could catch up and then...

He rounded the corner only to see that Searcy hadn't backed up at all. The prince triggered everything but the PPC was too close to focus correctly. The swinging autocannon jammed muzzle first into the corner of the building and dragged backwards, pulling him off-balance as he fired his laser, the weapon slashing a shallow trail into Searcy's.

Then Searcy's Mech stepped forward and almost lazily kicked the legs out from under Peter's. Automatically bracing for an impact that didn't come, Peter saw the sky between the buildings, oddly disorientating when his inner ear told him he was upright even though the Mackie was.

Searcy fired two chest mounted lasers into the PPC mount, following them a moment later with his PPC. Unlike Peter's there was no focusing issue - he must have an extended range mount.

There wasn't any armour left on the left arm and Peter tried to roll the Mackie to shield the weapon with his right side. Backing up, Searcy let loose with more cluster rounds from his autocannon, peppering the Mackie. One shot hit the cockpit's faceplate, causing the holodisplay to generate hairline cracks that weren't reflected on the actual faceplate behind it in real life.

With a frustrated cry, Peter managed to get the Mackie upright again but there was no sign of Searcy or his 'Mech. The man had done a hit and fade, textbook urban combat and Peter had fallen for it.

Dammit.

"Player three has entered the match," a robotic voice announced.

"What?" Peter released one joystick to adjust his microphone. "Clovis did you rip some of this software off an arcade."

"I had the code handy," the engineer said unabashedly. "And your sister was getting upset at seeing you getting your ass beat so she's decided to join the scrap."

He shook his head. "Catherine's not a mechwarrior, and he is not beating my ass."

"I'm sure you have him right where you want him," Holstein said with evident amusement. "Which if you check your tactical display..."

A blue icon - Catherine's 'Mech obviously - was visible on the street map of the battlefield and an intermittent red marker popped into view. Searcy.

Pushing the Mackie to maximum speed, Peter raced along the street and turned at an intersection, ducking it under the monorail and emerging into a plaza cluttered with food stands and surrounded on four sides by what seemed to be hotels.

Two Mackies blazed away at each other, one backed up against a hotel and the other occupying the gap between two. Given the former's wildly inaccurate fire - it was doing far more damage to the hotels than its enemy - Peter deduced that it was Catherine and opened up on the other Mackie.

He had the satisfaction of seeing the armour broken on the right chest before Searcy's Mackie smoothly retreated behind cover, pivoting to put the wounded armour behind the building first. In a final salvo the Solaris mechwarrior fired his laser's into Peter's Mackie and his PPC into Catherine's.

The weapons display highlighted Peter's PPC in red, indicating one of the laser shots had hit it and put the weapon out of action. Catherine's 'Mech slumped backwards against the hotel behind it. A real building might have collapsed upon it but either this was made of stronger stuff or the simulation wasn't quite that realistic.

"Catherine, are you okay?"

"Fallen," she said plaintively. "I can't get up."

"...right." The stubby arms weren't any help, but this was just a sim. "Rock the controls a bit. It's not realistic but without a neurohelmet the proper way won't work either." Peter moved his Mackie to cover her as she worked the 'Mech free and the computer judged her to be upright again. "If you really want to learn to use a 'Mech, we'll need to get you fitted out and do this with a real 'Mech. No offense, Clovis."

"None taken. I just wish I had some popcorn."

Peter's damage display lit up again. "Stop distracting me!" he shouted and wheeled, firing his autocannon as Searcy moved behind cover yet again.

A full alpha strike crashed past Peter's left side and ripped a hole in the building Searcy was behind... as well as carrying away what was left of Peter's PPC.

"...sorry," Catherine said in a small voice.

He forced himself to count to ten before responding. "It's fine, it was broken anyway. Let's move back and get to some more open territory so he can't sneak up on us."

The two Mackies retreated, Catherine taking the lead as Peter focused at least half his attention on their rear arc. He noticed more property damage and realised his sister was absently bashing her autocannon arm against the buildings along the side of the street. "Try not to hit the buildings, Cat, it's not doing the 'Mech any good."

She stopped and adjusted her course, walking more centrally in the street.

"Okay, good," he said encouragingly and then a salvo of fire lanced out of an intersection, smashing the left knee of Catherine's Mackie. She lost control immediately and the 'Mech crashed down onto the street.

Wheeling into the turn, Peter marched past, firing down the street. His shots slashed through the air underneath Searcy's Mackie, which was standing on the monorail track, and return fire blew into the right chest of his own 'Mech with disturbing precision.

Raising his guns, Peter tried to track on the matching damage to Searcy's chest but the other mechwarrior twisted to use his left side as protection and fired again.

With a flash, the holodisplay went dead and the controls followed. "What?" He checked the screens and they were still live... although an overlay reported 'Ejection'. "Clovis...?"

"He hit your ammo bins," the engineer told him. "No cellular ammo storage on these crates. Sorry, kid, he got you."

"I noticed," Peter snapped. Damn, he'd not thought much of Searcy - real mechwarriors like Kai Allard-Liao and Galen Cox had mopped the floor with Searcy's rival Vandergriff and another gladiator back in 3056. I guess I was measuring myself on the wrong scale, he thought. "How's Catherine doing?"

Clovis' voice was pained. "Kid, she didn't last thirty seconds once you were done."

"Fair enough." He pulled off the neurohelmet and ran his fingers through his hair. "Can you put me through to Searc- to Sears?"

"Sure."

A moment later, Searcy's voice was audible. "I hope I lived up to your expectations, sir."

"Yeah. It was... good work." He rubbed his jaw. "And you know what the reward for that is?"

The triumph leached out of the older man's voice. "More work?"

"Yeah. I obviously need more practise and if Cat expects to use one of these for real she's going to need intensive practise. Can you guess who just got appointed chief instructor."

"I'm not sure how much good it'll do her in a real fight," Searcy said honestly. "These simulators have limits."

"I noticed, but hopefully we'll have working 'Mechs by the time she's ready for them." And by the time we need them, he added to himself.


	3. Addicks

Part Three - Addicks

_And all those things I didn't say_

_Wrecking balls inside my brain_

_I will scream them loud tonight_

_Can you hear my voice this time?_

* * *

Chapter 12

Nadir Jump Point, Small World System

Duchy of Small, Chaos March

17 March 3063

A knocking on the bunkroom door dragged Peter from sleep. "What?" he grumbled, looking at the clock. He felt as if his head had barely touched the pillow but according to the clock he'd been asleep for about three hours.

"Someone at the door," Catherine yawned from her own bunk. She rolled over and pulled her blankets closer around herself.

"Thanks," he sighed and threw his legs off the side of the bunk. "Who is it?"

"Hogg."

"Be right with you." He rubbed his eyes and then yanked a fresh - well, mostly fresh - jumpsuit out of his bag and shoved one leg into it, hopping as he wrestled the other in.

"Shouldn't have an open door policy." Cat reached for the curtain and pulled it closed, except for a crack.

"I don't," he sighed. "But I'm in charge." Not bothering with the upper half of the jumpsuit he just knotted the sleeves roughly around his waist and slid the door open. "What's so important you need to get me up at this hour, Hogg?"

Hogg - about Victor's height and twice as far around the waist - raked his greasy greying hair back out of his face. "I want to talk business, Morgan."

"And it couldn't wait until morning?"

"I wanted to strike while the iron is hot," the prospector told him. "The boys and I have been talking and we've been cooped up aboard here for a good long time."

"Going on a month now, I'll grant you."

Hogg shook his head, sending the hair around his head flying around and back into his face. "I'm counting from when we left Zaniah. That time on New Dallas doesn't count."

"Does what we found there count?"

"Only when we turn it into money."

Peter nodded. This was beginning to make sense. "And we're one more jump from the Federated Commonwealth, where we part ways - me with my share and you and the boys with yours."

"There's a war going on, Mr. Morgan. I'm not so keen on going all the way there," Hogg explained. "Now I can understand not wanting to stop in the Free Worlds League, since Thomas Marik's old man was more than prone to say that what's his is his and what's yours is his and that sort of thing runs in the family."

There was a snicker from from Catherine's bunk.

"You see." Hogg nodded in the direction of the bunk. "Miss Morgan knows we're right there. But that was two jumps back - that last jump through New Stevens means we've clear. And Small World's a good place to make the split."

"I didn't think the Chaos March was a good place for any sort of business, Hogg. Not with Sun-Tzu Liao eager to retake every world his grandfather lost and half those worlds still squabbling over who constitutes the government."

The old man shook his head. "Now I won't say you're wrong there, Mr Morgan, not for some worlds. But Small World's settled right down, it's even partnered up with Ingress and formed their own little interstellar union. That's as stable as it gets around here... and a lot more stable than any world where the Steiners and the Davions are settling their differences."

Peter rubbed his jaw. "Look, I have a schedule, Hogg. I'm not breaking off the Glowworm to drop you off on Small World. That's going to add two weeks to getting... where I'm headed."

Hogg shook his head. "Well we're not going any further. And there's a lot more people in my crew and J.D.'s and... well, Mael Colium doesn't count either way but I'd say you're outvoted."

"The isn't a democracy," Peter pointed out. "I'm in charge and we'll cash you out on Addicks."

"Addicks!" Hogg raked his hair back. "Are you out of your mind? Haven't you heard the news?"

"What news?"

"Ardan Sortek is invading the system," Catherine informed them from her bunk.

"...well, yes." Hogg confirmed. "Your sister is well informed," he added as an aside to Peter. "But there's no sense going to a system with that going on. Even if they don't shoot at you, Holstein and Colium will have their ships commandeered and probably the entire cargo will be claimed too! We'll be lucky to get a promissory note and that doesn't spend very well."

"That isn't going to be a problem, Hogg. I know a guy." My godfather, Ardan Sortek, for one.

"You may think you know a guy, Mr Morgan, but I don't know him. And I don't trust him. You can never tell what'll happen when soldiers come into it."

Peter leant forwards. "And what do you plan to do, Hogg, if I say no. Mutiny?"

The old man laughed. "Mutiny? This isn't a military expedition, Morgan. No, we'll bring in the lawyers."

"...what?"

"The lawyers. We'll hit you for endangerment, for withholding our pay, for entrapping us here and not letting us leave. The local government may not be all that well armed," Hogg finished, "But they can keep you from leaving and by the time the courts settle it'll be six months... maybe twelve. What'll that do for your schedule?"

"You son of a -"

"Mr Hogg," Catherine asked, pulling the curtain back a little. "Why're you arguing with my brother?"

Hogg flushed. "Well, you heard me! I just explained."

"But you're making it sound like there's nothing save for going to Small World and going on to Addicks?" she asked. "Aren't there any dropships leaving here for Small World - if this is stable territory then there must be trading ships?"

"Uh, well, yes, I suppose so," the man admitted. "There are four other jumpships here so I would guess there are dropships."

"Then why not just move your share of the salvage to one of those. That way you get what you want and we're only slowed by however long it takes to transship it."

Peter opened his mouth to object and then swallowed the remark. It was a fair solution.

"Well... I suppose that would work. But how do we pay for the transit?" asked Hogg.

"Take a loan against your salvage," she offered. "We can front you a deposit... that's fair."

He hummed and then nodded. "I suppose. I'll talk to the boys and see how they feel about it."

"Boys?" she asked in confusion. "There are children aboard?"

"No, I mean... you know, the crew?"

"I know Burt and Emma!"

Peter groaned. "Get some sleep, Cat. I'll sort out the rest with Hogg."

She waved her hand. "I like your white suit, Mr Hogg."

"Good night, Catherine." Peter dragged the curtain closed and ushered Hogg - who wasn't wearing a suit, white or otherwise - out of the room.

The older man sighed. "Are you sure she's getting better? Because she's a sweet lady but she's..."

"She's not stupid and she's not deaf!" Catherine called after them.

Peter slid the door closed firmly. "Hogg, I'll make the deal she suggested... but one more word about my sister and your ship to Small World will be the worst rattletrap I can find."

The old prospector thrust out his hand. "Mr Morgan, your sister just cut you a deal."

I'll be glad to see the back of you, Peter thought as he shook hands with the man. At least once we're at Addicks, uncle Ardan will be on our side.

* * *

Chapter 13

Johnson City, Addicks

Draconis March, Federated Commonwealth

31 March 3063

When he envisaged meeting his godfather again, handcuffs hadn't featured. Peter shook them in front of him. The guards had used the good sort, not impossible to get out of but hard enough that even his SERE training wouldn't let him open before it was noticed.

It wasn't any great comfort that both Cat and Clovis were similarly bound, something that was clearly uncomfortable for the latter with his short arms. Cat shook hers in emulation of Peter. "I'm not a number," she declared. "I am a free man. Woman. I think."

The guards - members of the Eighth Crucis Light Infantry - glared at her. "Keep it quiet," one warned. "Or we'll put you in the brig until the Marshal has time for you."

"It's okay, Cat," Peter assured her. "Just do what the nice corporal said."

She moved her gaze around the four guards and then reached over to tug his sleeve. "I see a corporal," she whispered - not all that quietly. "But he's not very nice."

The man in question grabbed Cat's shoulder and pulled her back away from Peter.

"He means that one," Clovis told her. "For the Crushers, this is pretty nice."

Cat opened her lips and then paused, raised her hand and mimed zipping her mouth closed.

"Smart ass," the corporal grumbled.

The door to the detention room opened. The Eighth Crucis Light Infantry had essentially taken over a police station to manage the various captives they were dealing with. The three new arrivals were only a drop in the bucket compared to the Draconis March Militia personnel who'd been captured since Ardan Sortek arrived on the strategically placed world with the Davion Assault Guards Regimental Combat Team and the First NAIS Cadet Cadre. The Eighth were just a small part of his task force.

The first people through the door were additional guards - bringing the total number in the room to eight. After that came four officers in battle-dress - two quite young and obviously aides, accompanying a stocky grizzled man with a Marshal's rank badge in black on his collar and a taller, balding officer that Peter recognised at once.

The last man looked over the three of them for a moment and then shook his head. "Well if you're not Clovis Holstein, you're one hell of an imposter."

"There aren't many men of my stature," the dwarf said drily. "And fewer who have my panache."

"Is that another word for paunch?" Ardan Sortek said wryly. "Karla must be feeding you well."

"She does try."

Peter's godfather nodded. "You understand the need for security."

"I'm not so worried about the dwarf," the Marshal interrupted. "But these two... they can't really be who they say they are."

Ardan looked them over and a chill went down Peter's spine. He'd known Ardan all his life but never once had he seen this expression. "I'd like to think that they are, but it does seem far fetched," he said slowly. "And we don't have the means to check their bona fides."

"I gave your people my ID card," Peter offered.

"Yes." Sortek leant back against the table and continued to study him clinically. "Unfortunately, while duplicating an AFFC officer's identity card isn't easy, nor is it beyond the capabilities of certain agencies... and it would be easiest of all for those under Katherine Steiner-Davion's control. Since they have access to the normal process of creating such cards and such."

He cracked a smile. "And of course there's the question of who the young lady is, since the Archon has made several public appearances on New Avalon in the last few days, so it seems very unlikely she's rushed all the way here."

"Then ask me something only I'd know," Peter suggested. "There must be something that only the real Peter Steiner-Davion could tell you."

Sortek tilted the head. "I haven't seen Peter in years. I have no way of knowing what he might or might not have told someone... although I suppose there's one thing he probably wouldn't have willingly shared."

"Like what?"

"I was the first one to take you out in a BattleMech, wasn't I? What do you remember about that."

Peter closed his eyes. "Really?"

"I can't be sure Peter might not have been forced to tell such an anecdote somehow but he'd never have volunteered that information."

"So?" asked the Marshal. "What was so special about this?"

"Well you weren't the first to take me in a Mech," Peter pointed out. "Father did when I was just a baby but I don't remember it. When you took me out in your Victor I was five."

"Yes?"

He sighed. "If anyone repeats this, I'll kill them. I was so excited that you had to stop and let me use the cockpit toilet."

"Really?"

Sortek chuckled. "He's right, Stephan. That's how it happened."

So the marshal was Stephan Cooper, commander of the Davion Assault Guards. Good to know, Peter thought. "And I'd rather it didn't get around."

"We all have these little stories of our childhood," Clovis said cheerily.

"Yes, but only royalty's are of interest to all and sundry." Peter raised his cuffed hands. "Is that convincing enough?"

"For now. I'll want to check your story, but for now..." Sortek looked over at the corporal. "Uncuff them. You're now a security detail - keep them out of trouble but keep them safe too."

Peter waited while the key was applied and his wrists freed. "I wasn't planning on being here for long, uncle."

"That's too bad." Ardan pulled back a chair and sat down, "May I ask where you were planning to go? I assume you have a plan?"

"What I had in mind was New Avalon," he explained. "I have some information from Catherine that suggests that... the Archon is planning to purge the First Davion Guards. I can't see your cousin standing for that."

"And you're going to stop her?" asked Cooper. "You and this lookalike?"

"Catherine is my sister, Marshal. I've checked that, and you're welcome to do another blood test if you want." Peter leant forwards. "Our dropship is carrying more than a hundred partially intact BattleMechs. If I can find the right parts - and the right people - then I can reinforce Bishop Sortek with an additional regiment of BattleMechs. That might be enough to give him a chance."

"That's a rather ambitious plan." Ardan smiled though. "Your father might have liked it, but New Avalon is in the Crucis March and Katherine's hold is stronger there. She also has the Davion Guards outnumbered three to one on New Avalon. Not to mention several warships at her disposal. On first glance I don't like your chances."

"Nor do I. But I don't like this war either. It's only a few months old and it's only going to get uglier. Civil wars are the worst wars for that - you must have had the same history lessons I got about the Davion Civil War and similar struggles. How long do you think it could last."

"Realistically, years." The smile slipped off Ardan's face. "We're still building resources and support. I'm sure you've guessed, that's why we're here."

"Addicks' Department of the Quartermaster base. It's one of the biggest supply hubs in the Federated Commonwealth, sending shipments as far away as Robinson, Kathil and even Skye." Peter hesitated and then decided to bet on what Catherine had told him. "My information is that the Sixth Federated Commonwealth RCT have dug in there and you're trying to talk them out."

Cooper leant forwards. "You have a good source of information. What is it?"

Peter's eyes flicked for a moment to Catherine and none of the others missed it.

Ardan nodded slowly. "Your sister."

"Cat," she introduced herself.

He bowed his head gracefully towards her. "And I am Ardan."

"I... think we've met," she said tenatively. "There was a rose garden... behind a manor house surrounded by wheat fields..."

Ardan nodded. "You're thinking of my family home no doubt. And how do you know this?"

"She -"

His godfather raised one hand sharply. "I asked her, Peter."

Cat stared across the table and then said slowly: "I remember things. An assassin chasing Omi Kurita from Mogyorod to Luthien. Kai Allard-Liao rescuing Clan warriors from ComStar and the Free Worlds League from my brother. An ambush at York, Bulldog, Serpent, Sharon Byran dying of pride and falcon talons." She faltered. "I... It's a jumble. Marik burns Regulus and they destroy Gibson." Her words began to hasten, tripping over them. "Warships above Camelot, fire raining down on Avalon, Black Thorns on Galedon and Peacock on the Dragon throne -"

Peter reached out and caught her wrist. "Cat, enough. We're on Addicks."

Cooper leant back in his chair, eyes narrow. "Is she insane?"

"Seine is a river in Paris, de Nile is a river in Egypt," the young woman snapped back. "Cooper and copper, guards versus guards, the sixth dies but the fifth fights on steadfastly."

Ardan blinked and steepled his fingers, eying Cat over them. "You said copper. Do you mean Louise Kopper?"

"You can't be taking this seriously," Cooper snorted.

Peter glared at him. "She led us to a cache of Terran Hegemony war material that had been buried for half a millennium. I don't claim to know how, but she's not been wrong yet."

"Butterflies everywhere," Catherine said with a nod.

"Kopper," Ardan said again. "What do you know about her, Catherine."

"Fifth Lyran Guards," she told him. "That woman sent them to destroy the First NAIS cadets."

He nodded. "That would match what we've heard. It's not impossible that they could come here, and casualties digging McConnel's Sixth RCT out will be bad enough. Adding another RCT probably wouldn't stop you Stephan, but it could cost us a great deal."

"If they really are coming."

"Do you really want to take that chance?" asked Peter.

The two senior officers exchanged looks. "Give him one more chance to surrender or withdraw, Stephan," Ardan ordered firmly. "But move your troops into position on Loknar because if he turns you down then we'll storm the base tomorrow."

"We already have the cadets picketing it," Cooper pointed out. "That just leaves the local militia to watch out for stray survivors of the DMM."

"I think that's an acceptable risk. We need those supplies." Ardan turned back to Peter. "And I assume that that's where you want to get parts from?"

He nodded, glad that things were going their way. "That's right."

His godfather turned to Clovis. "And these 'Mechs of his... you vouch for them?"

"It'll take time, but yeah. I can get them restored."

That got a nod from Ardan. "Another regiment of 'Mechs isn't something I can turn down. We'll see what we can do. As for the rest... well, we'll see."

"Really?" Peter's spirits lifted, but the old man shook his head.

"I said we'll see, Peter. In the meantime, make yourself comfortable."

* * *

Chapter 14

Loknar DQ, Addicks

Draconis March, Federated Commonwealth

1 April 3063

Jerry Foster's Locust staggered as LRMs arced up over the wall of the compound and rained down over the upper hull and cockpit.

"Keep moving!" Leutenant Melanie Troia shouted. "Don't give them a target they can focus down."

There was a crackle of explosions behind the wall as Jerry jinked his 'Mech to one side. Artillery strikes, Conner Sortek thought as he rushed his Battle Hawk closer to give his classmate extra cover.

Another volley of LRMs flew past them both and the anti-missile system behind Conner's cockpit spat flechettes into their path, thinning their number. The missiles overshot, plastering the ground ahead of the recon lance.

"Thanks!" Jerry said and pushed the Locust into a run, ahead of the other three 'Mechs.

The ground seemed to explode where the twenty-ton 'Mech stood and he staggered to a halt. "Thunder LRMs!"

Conner swore and hit his jump-jets. The missiles hadn't been aimed to hit, they'd been laying a minefield ahead of them. Fortunately it couldn't be a large one and he soared over the impact site, followed by Troia's Valkyrie and Jasper Carrott's Jenner.

Jerry was backing his Locust up, the 'Mech seeming to mince as the damaged feet didn't adjust to the ground correctly - actuator damage, Conner guessed.

"Foster, get out of here," Troia snapped. "If you can't run you can't -"

Her signal cut off abruptly as a stream of tracer fire intercepted her 'Mech.

"- back up!" she continued a moment later, "We got company!"

Two 'Mechs had perched on top of the wall - an Enforcer and a Dervish, both classic House Davion designs. The Dervish pointed its spade-like hands towards Conner and he twisted away. Four missiles arching towards him showed he'd not managed to break the lock but only two hit as the anti-missile system chattered again.

Neither of the Short Range Missiles did much damage, but the Battle Hawk wasn't all that well protected to begin with. Conner slewed it around and raised his 'Mech's arms partly to bring the weapons to bear and partly to use them to shield his torso.

The Enforcer was nearer so he focused on that - three pulse lasers stitched holes in the blocky chest plate of the 'Mech but he couldn't get a lock for his Streak SRMs as the 'Mech leapt down to close the distance and to avoid the lasers - fired a moment later - by Jasper and Troia.

"Looks like we have their attention," the leutenant decided. "Pull back and let's draw them away from the wall.

Conner jabbed down hard on his pedals, firing his jump-jets again to pull away and re-orientate for a withdrawal. Jasper might be able to do that on speed alone - his Jenner could keep pace with Jerry's Locust now that the latter had damage - but Conner and Troia weren't so fortunate. The Enforcer and Dervish were collectively almost as heavy as the entire lance and they had top speeds almost identical to those of the Valkyrie and the Battle Hawk.

There was thump from somewhere below Conner and he saw the status diagram update, highlighting his 'Mech's left leg in red. Armour penetration! Glancing at the enemy he saw the Enforcer's arms were lowered, muzzles still tracking the Battle Hawk's legs.

More missiles streaked at him from the Dervish and he somehow used the last reserves of power in the jump jets to skid aside. The Long Range Missiles were within their minimum arming range and missed clean but four Streaks tracked him and this time the antimissile system only clawed one out of the air, three more digging into his 'Mech's light rear armour.

He had basically no coverage on the rear of his torso, forcing him to swing the Battle Hawk at the hip as he ran away, shielding the vulnerable plating with his right arm and the pulse lasers.

Even as he thought that, more LRMs arched up over the wall. Fortunately they missed him, unfortunately they landed in his path and Conner had to turn the Battle Hawk aside in case they were more Thunder LRMs.

"Can someone take out that turret!" he cried as he fired his pulse lasers. The Enforcer was leading with its right arm and several pulses of energy marked along the autocannon barrel and up to the shoulder.

The Enforcer pilot fired the autocannon first and then rotated his own torso to shield the damaged right side and fire his laser. A few of the cluster rounds scored hits on the left leg, tearing into its exposed myomers but the laser slashed armour away from the right arm of the Battle Hawk, stripping most of the casing around the pulse lasers.

"Artillery strike on the way," Troia snapped. "Can you still move?"

Conner felt the Battle Hawk shake as he pushed it towards maximum speed. "They've lamed me!" he reported tersely. "Get clear. I'll try to buy you time!"

"Don't give me that, Sortek!"

Firing his jump jets carefully, Conner skimmed away from the wall and the pursuit, bringing his left arm to bear. This time the Streak launcher managed to lock on and both missiles rocketed from the launcher, one cratering the right thigh of the Enforcer and the other smashing into the low dome of metal above the cockpit.

LRMs from Troia's Valkyrie added to the damage but the Dervish had hung back just far enough that its own LRMs could lock and both its launchers opened up, deluging Conner in missiles.

The AMS did its best but armour blew away and he came down off-balance, which must have been just the opening the Enforcer was waiting for. As Conner tried to stabilize the Battle Hawk a stream of high explosive rounds hammered into the 'Mech's left hip and the joint locked up entirely.

Fighting the gyro, Conner held the 'Mech upright but then more missiles came in from behind the wall. He got a brief impression of his 'Mech's left arm erupting in a fireball and then the cockpit blew away and his ejection seat hurled him up and away from the tumbling wreck that had been his Battle Hawk.

The change in perspective was almost as daunting as the hammer blow of the ejection, followed by another sharp jerk as his parachute opened. Training kicked in and he grabbed the control handles, trying to let the light wind carry him as far as he could from the firefight.

Without 'Mech sensors it was harder to identify the Mechs. The two navy blue ones were clearly the Sixth FedCom pair, but with blocky chests and domed heads it was only by the difference in their weapons fire that he could distinguish them.

More distant, and receding even as he dropped towards the ground, the three bottle green survivors of his lance were retreating. Troia was too responsible an officer to try to come back for him.

The ground hit Conner's feet unexpectedly and he folded his knees, trying to absorb the impact and bring the chute under control at the same time. He succeeded in the first but failed in the second and was tugged trailing along the ground as the wind caught the panels again and yanked him off his feet.

Cursing, the young mechwarrior freed a survival knife from his boot and sawed through the cords on his left shoulder. The chute lost its shape and fell to the ground, letting him claw free of his harness. The rest of his ejection chair, along with most of his survival gear, was a hundred feet away.

Conner tore off his helmet and stared up at the two 'Mechs stalking across the battlefield towards his chair and then himself.

"Nope," he decided and searched for a fold in the ground to hide him. The FedCom pilots would probably want a prisoner rather than to squash him underfoot but 'probably' suddenly felt remarkably unreassuring.

To his ashamed relief the two towering 'Mechs ignored him to pound after his comrades. It was too much to ask that they had missed him entirely though and he looked around, wondering from which direction supporting infantry would come to intercept him.

A distant whistling had Conner bury himself in the ground and pray fervently that the cannon cockers on whichever side was firing had better things than to lob shells at a dismounted Mechwarrior.

The answer was yes and an explosion behind the wall - towering over a BattleMech and gigantic to a man on foot - marked the death of the LRM turret that had fired on him earlier. From the sounds of it a shell had found the magazine.

The whine of a turbine engine alerted Conner to the imminent arrival of an Armoured Personnel Carrier and he looked up to see it crawling towards him, the turret-mounted machine gun definitely tracking his position as the small armoured vehicle circled the wreck of his Battle Hawk. He saw a stylised tiger's head marking on the flank, confirming it was the Sixth's infantry.

He'd just about resigned himself to captivity when the APC suddenly reversed to shelter behind his fallen 'Mech, the turret swivelling away from him.

Moments later the Enforcer returned to view, missing an arm and running faster than Conner would have cared to push the 'Mech. There was no sign of the Dervish and more 'Mechs were behind the Enforcer, two, four... a dozen, the lightest of them an eighty-ton Victor like the one his father had piloted when Conner was a boy.

There was a crack of something passing the sound barrier and the Enforcer lurched forwards, its remaining arm torn away.

A Nightstar spearheading the incoming assault 'Mech company brought its autocannon around to finish the job but before it could fire, a Stalker opened up with its full missile batteries and blew the medium 'Mech almost in two.

A trail of tracer fire lashed out from the APC but all that did was give the Nightstar a new target and the assault Mech's arsenal ripped through the light vehicle with contemptuous ease.

Conner pressed his face into the dirt to avoid being blinded by the weapons fire as the Assault Mechs began to hammer on the wall, joined by further artillery fire. They couldn't breach it, it was simply too thick, but within moments they'd broken down enough that Mechs could begin to scramble up it, joined by those few assault 'Mechs in the company that had jump jets.

Scrambling to his feet, Conner watched them enter the fortified supply base and then staggered towards the APC. There was nothing more he could do in the battle, he thought, but at least the APC might have something more protective for him to wear than cooling vest and shorts.

At his first sight of the interior, he doubled up and unashamed threw up, covering the bloody dirt with his breakfast.

The sound of footsteps brought him up and he saw an infantryman in stained fatigues staring at him, rifle clutched in one hand but clearly with no thought of aiming it at him.

"Are they..." the man said weakly. "Did anyone..."

He's younger than me, Conner thought. Must be a recent recruit. "I don't know," he said. "Help me check for survivors and a medical kit."

Presented with direction, the soldier slung his rifle and joined Conner in the search. The tiger badge on his shoulder and the NAIS diamonds on Conner's vest didn't matter now. And besides, they were part of the same armed forces... weren't they?

* * *

Chapter 15

Johnson City, Addicks

Draconis March, Federated Commonwealth

2 April 3063

Characteristically, Ardan Sortek hadn't taken over the penthouse of the hotel for his headquarters. Instead he was occupying a two bedroom suite that had probably been chosen for its terrible view - there were very few possible sniping positions that could have someone putting shots in the windows. Peter thought that the only reason it was even a two bedroom suite was because Ardan had an aide to accommodate.

"I'm sorry I had to take precautions," his father's champion told them once they'd been admitted to the suite and taken seats on the couch. The aide, having offered drinks, delivered Catherine's flavoured water (Peter had dismissed the idea) and then withdrew tactfully. "There have been a couple of imposters claiming to be you, Peter, even if they didn't make it past even basic identity checks. We couldn't risk this being a more professional attempt."

"There were?" Peter rubbed his chin.

"Some people like the idea of being royalty. One was granted a pardon on condition of therapy and the second one should get out of prison in a few more years." Ardan had two fingers of whisky in his glass as he sank into an armchair facing them. "Abbot Giles confirms your identity and we've done another blood test on Catherine."

"I take it that it confirmed her identity?"

Ardan paused and then sipped from his glass. "It confirms your relationship, yes. Identity is something else."

"What else can it be?" Peter demanded. "Mother and father can hardly have hidden another daughter!"

"Your parents were very resourceful people. Admittedly I see no reason that they would have done such a thing, but there have been some very creative acts of espionage over the years."

"I am Catherine with a C," Peter's sister said firmly and then hesitated. "I don't know who is on the throne."

"No, and nor do we," Ardan confirmed smoothly. "We can hardly accuse her of being an imposter."

"Why not?" asked Peter. "Challenge her to take a blood test against... hmm."

"Yes, against whom? You, Yvonne and Victor all have an invested interest in discrediting her. Catherine is an unknown and, unfortunately, the explosion that killed Arthur left too little to use. She has every reason to deny such an allegation and unfortunately, Victor's credibility in presenting Catherine would be... lacking."

"Well why not?" demanded Peter and then the penny dropped. "Oh. Joshua Marik."

Ardan gave him a rueful smile. "Unfortunately, yes. I don't believe your brother had any intention of a long-term replacement of the Captain-General's heir with an imposter but presenting Catherine as the 'real' second child of Hanse and Melissa would seem suspicious to everyone - particularly when we don't know if Katherine - with a K -" he added as an aside to Cat, "- would pass the test. If she did then she'd gain credibility and Victor would lose it."

Peter leant back into the couch. "Alright. That makes sense... although I have to wonder where she came from."

"It's not impossible, if admittedly far-fetched, to think that someone may have obtained genetic samples of your parents and created their own Steiner-Davion in a test-tube. The technology certainly exists - the Clans make widespread use of it."

"That would be kind of a lapse of security. Then again, if Katrina isn't my sister then I have to wonder how she got through security checks."

Ardan looked pained. "Unfortunately, such checks are inevitably controlled by people and she brought her own inner security from Tharkad."

"And no one noticed?"

Catherine reached over and touched his sleeve. "The Captain-General rules the League based largely on House Marik vouching for his kinship to them after his time with ComStar."

"Well, yes. But he's a Marik." Peter saw a flicker of surprise on Ardan's face. "Isn't he?"

The older man shook his head slowly. "Now how did you know that, Catherine."

"Are you serious? Thomas Marik is an imposter? And we know about it?" He rose to his feet. "My God, Ardan!"

"Please sit down, Peter."

He obeyed slowly. "Why isn't Victor doing anything about it?"

Ardan steepled his hands. "Destabilising the Free Worlds League isn't in our interests. Until relatively recently we were badly dependent on them for shipments of equipment to refit our armies to face the Clans and since then they've been one of the pillars of the Second Star League. Also, the Captain-General was supposedly tested intensively when he returned from ComStar in 3030."

Peter snapped his fingers. "But not in 3036 when he returned after apparently dying in that bombing."

"We assume that such checks as were carried out were subverted. How, I'm not sure."

"Paul Marik would do anything for his brother," Catherine told them. "As Intelligence Minister he has the power to control such checks."

"But would he prop up an imposter?" asked Ardan thoughtfully.

"If his real brother asked him to, yes. Duncan Marik was losing support and the League's parliament would not accept a cyborg as Captain-General."

Peter groaned. "Marik's a cyborg, now? This is like a cheap novel."

"If he was sufficiently injured then Thomas might well have needed prosthetics." Ardan lifted his glass. "You could be wrong, Catherine, but it's a plausible explanation. Although once again, you seem to have sources of information we don't."

"Do you have any bombs to drop about Sun-Tzu Liao?" Peter asked. "Or Theodore Kurita? Why not go for a full sweep of the Inner Sphere?"

She hesitated and then sipped on her water. "We have a nephew."

Ardan closed his eyes wearily and Peter rose explosively from the couch and stalked to the drinks cabinet, rifling through it for a bottle of brandy. Half-filling a tumbler, he took a gulp and let it burn its way down his throat. "Okay. Omi, I assume?"

Catherine nodded.

"Could be worse."

"The Draconis March will go insane," Ardan predicted gloomily. "They've already got regiments occupying prefectural capitals after the raids last years. Now the Kuritas have a half-Davion heir the way they did back in the 2720s."

"Oddly enough, I trust Omi," Peter told him. "I met her on Solaris and I think she genuinely cares for Victor. The kid's obviously being kept a secret and we can rely on her to do that."

"Until her gardener assassinates her." Catherine rose and tried to hand him her empty glass. "Can I have more? Peter? Peter?"

Peter was surprised his own glass didn't break when he set it down sharply. "Can I have a little more detail about this assassin, Cat."

"Katrina hired him to kill Omi," she said thoughtfully. "The same man she used to kill Me- Mo..." She sagged suddenly and her glass did shatter as it slipped out of her hand and hit the tiled floor. "Mother?"

Peter threw his arms around her before she fell. Tears were beginning to flow from her eyes. "It's okay, sis. It's okay, just sit down."

"It's not okay." She struggled and he had to hold tighter. "She killed my mother."

"My mother too," he reminded her quietly.

"Oh." The strength went out of her. "I'm sorry. So sorry."

"It's not your fault." He lifted her up and laid her out on the couch, then turned towards Ardan. "And you think we should let Katrina rule for a moment longer than we must."

"I've never thought that," Ardan told him levelly. "But I owe your father too much to take a risk like going for New Avalon now with a half-baked plan."

"Even if it kills your cousin?"

The older man's eyes narrowed. "Do you think he's the only one at risk? My son Conner was with the assault on the DQ yesterday and barely escaped with his life. Did you think about that when you pushed us to assault the place?"

"Conner? Is he alright?"

"He punched out in time." Ardan pushed himself to his feet. "Get your head together, Peter. I'll send word to Luthien about this gardener. One thing that... Katrina is right about is that losing Omi would hurt your brother badly. We can't afford that."

Peter nodded slowly. "I'll speak to you again."

"When we're both calmer." Ardan rapped on the door and the aide opened it a moment later. "Prince Peter and his sister will remain here until she's ready to return to her suite," he informed the young officer. "I'll be in the comms centre."

"Yes sir. Should I join you there?"

"No, captain." Ardan glanced at Peter. "I believe the Prince has a requisition for parts from the DQ to put together. Give him a hand with that. We're going to need all the operational 'Mechs we can get and if Clovis Holstein says that he can get them fixed up in a useful timespan then I believe him."

* * *

Chapter 16

Johnson City, Addicks

Draconis March, Federated Commonwealth

3 April 3063

To be fair to Ardan Sortek, he didn't just make supplies available - although almost everything Clovis Holstein had asked for was available somewhere in the vast and mostly well documented warehouses of Loknar DQ - he'd also given access to intelligence reports from across the Inner Sphere. For the first time, Peter had an idea of how the war was going.

Virtually none of it was good news at this stage through. The Draconis March was far more interested in fighting the Draconis Combine than they were in dethroning Katrina - at least as long as she kept giving them supplies. The Capellan March was a quagmire with Duke Hasek notionally uncommitted to either side while task forces fought over key supply and command nodes, in his name, Victor's and Katrina's.

Across the Terran corridor Katrina's loyalists stood stronger except for a few cases. Victor's supporters on Arc Royal were pinned in place by Clan Jade Falcon just across the border and Katrina had had much longer to entrench herself. Victor himself had only just reached the Thirty-Ninth Avalon Hussars RCT on the far edge of the Lyran Alliance, who would hopefully form the core of his personal task force.

What drew Peter's eye though was New Avalon, the world of his birth and currently Katrina's capital.

There was no news so far that Katrina had moved against the First Davion Guards, but they'd been removed from the capital city itself to make room for the Third Robinson Rangers and the Tenth Deneb Light Cavalry. Adding in the New Avalon Crucis March Militia and subtracting the Davion Heavy Guards, who had been redeployed to Galax and left without jumpships to return to the capital and Bishop Sortek was outnumbered almost three to one.

"Ardan's right." Peter only realised he'd spoken out loud when Catherine sat up from the couch where she'd been laying.

"Usually right but never unsure," she told him. "About what?"

"Warships. Katrina has at least two near New Avalon and either could destroy Glowworm easily if we tried to land. She's just a freighter after all."

His sister nodded. "Subterfuge... or warships of our own."

"Right now the best we can do is FCS Intrepid." Peter rubbed his chin. "Just a corvette, even assuming Ardan let her join us. Against cruisers, she'd be destroyed easily."

Catherine swiped at a lock of hair that had fallen over her face. "There are cruisers at Delavan," she offered. "The yards there are rushing Hanse and Andrew to completion."

Peter sat back at the mention and then pulled up the reports from Delavan. He'd never been very involved in the warship side of the armed forces but he knew enough to read the reports and Catherine was right. There had been three Avalon-class cruisers under construction as of the end of the year. FCS Robert Davion had been rushed into action over Kathil by the Loyalists and been forced into the atmosphere by a ramming attack, destroyed with all hands. The other two, named for Peter's father and grandfather, were at Delavan and still being worked on.

"If we can't get to New Avalon before the summer's out she'll have doubled the cruisers guarding her," he concluded. "Wonderful."

Catherine pushed herself up off the couch and went to join him. "The pieces fit together. But we can build our own picture from them."

"What do you mean?"

She pulled up a map of the worlds around New Avalon. "To defeat her we need more ships," her finger touched Delavan. "And more soldiers." Galax, then moving her finger towards New Avalon. "A little energon and a lot of luck."

"What's energon?" he asked.

Cat stared at him, and then slumped forwards to lean on the table, pressing her knuckles against her forehead. "Stupid, stupid," she castigated herself.

He leant over and took her wrists, pulling her hands gently back from her face. "You're not stupid, Cat. I think you might have hit on something Ardan can go with. Let me think for a moment."

She sat back obediently and Peter pushed his own chair aside and paced back and forth. "Ardan won't move the Assault Guards and the Cadet Cadre away until either he has more forces here or he's sure the Fifth Lyran Guards aren't about to attack. The supplies here are too vital to leave unsecured."

Five paces across the room. "That leaves our unit, which is only a regiment on paper. Even if we can scrape together the mechwarriors, we also need time to train them and get the 'Mechs ready. And the technicians and tools... Glowworm just isn't equipped."

"Would one more regiment make a difference on New Avalon?" she asked him.

Peter tipped his hand back and forth as he paced. "I don't know. We might, but we'd be awfully raw. Worst case we could be a liability, but add in another RCT - particularly an elite one like the Heavy Guards - and not only would the numbers be almost even, the calibre of the troops would swing the balance in Sortek's favour."

"So we need them."

"Yes. And they need jumpships..." He paused and darted for the noteputer on the table. "A Fox-class corvette like the Intrepid has dropship collars, what about the Avalon-class?"

The answer came up. They did. "If Ardan gives us the Intrepid, plus the crusiers, plus Bifrost... that's eighteen collars. Not enough for a full RCT but maybe half of it besides our..." Peter broke off. "We need a name for our regiment."

"Pride of the Federated Commonwealth."

He looked at her. "That's... a bit unwieldy."

Catherine held up her hand and raised her little finger. "Pride of Donegal." Ring finger. "Pride of Skye." Middle finger. "Pride of Tamar."

"Oh!" Peter slapped his forehead. "The Royal Guards!"

She nodded and raised her index finger. "Pride of the Lyran Commonwealth." And then her thumb. "Pride of the Federated Commonwealth."

"Fifth Royal Guards," he agreed. "It makes a statement. Okay then, so we take the warships and we've got near parity in warships and we've got the shipping to bring the Heavy Guards in. Taking the cruisers though... I'm not sure where we would begin."

A knock on the door interrupted them. Peter crossed to the door and opened it, then stepped back as he saw who was there. "Come in."

"Thank you." Ardan entered the room, glanced around and then smiled avuncularly at Catherine. "You're feeling better now, Cat?"

"It comes and it goes." She straightened. "And yourself?"

"Well enough." He turned and beckoned a much younger man into the room. "Do you remember my youngest, Conner?"

Peter couldn't help but chuckle as the young mechwarrior's jaw dropped at the sight of Catherine. "Welcome to the befuddlement," he assured Conner, slapping him on the shoulder. "No, we don't understand it either but Catherine is definitely my sister."

"Then who's on New Avalon?"

"It's a very good question," his father agreed. "We'll find out, sooner or later."

"Sooner, rather than later," Peter said with a slight edge to his voice.

"Let's not argue about it now." Ardan made a gesture towards the door and Peter closed it obediently. "I'm actually here about your plan to form a new unit, which I do agree with."

"We've just chosen a name," Peter told him drily.

"An important first step."

"The Fifth Royal Guards." He paused for effect. "The Pride of the Federated Commonwealth."

The field marshal paused and then nodded. "I see. Yes, that's a good choice. It'll take some living up to though."

"I know." Peter shrugged. "And we have all of three mechwarriors right now."

"Two and a half. Maybe a third," Catherine corrected.

With a shrug he conceded the point.

"Well, I think I can help with that." Ardan glanced at his son. "Or rather, Conner may be able to."

The younger Sortek blinked. "Oh? Oh!" His eyes widened in understanding. "Would you be open to a volunteer?"

"Do you think General Sanchez and Colonel Vermillion can spare you?"

"I'm dispossessed right now," Conner admitted. "My Battle Hawk took a hit to the ammo bin and it's not fit for more than spare parts at the moment."

Ardan nodded. "There are about twenty mechwarriors who've had their mechs damaged or destroyed fighting here, drawn from the Assault Guards and the First NAIS. Normally we'd re-equip them from the DQ and put them back in the line but instead it seemed as if they might better serve by joining you."

"I'm not so foolish as to turn them away," Peter agreed with a smile. "Welcome aboard, Conner."

"It's an honour, sir."

Peter looked over at Ardan. "I was thinking I could look for volunteers among the soldiers of the Sixth FedCom and the local DMM."

"They already fought against us, Peter." Ardan shook his head. "How can we trust them to fight alongside us?"

Catherine shook her head. "One day the war will be over, sir. And then we must rebuild that trust. Why not begin now?"

"She's right." Peter glanced at the other two. "Obviously there are some who're hardcore loyalists to Katrina but there are likely some who did nothing more than stick with their unit. Even if we can't get many mechwarriors, their technicians can hardly be accused of taking up arms against us."

"Some of them left booby traps before they surrendered," Conner told him sharply. "We've lost a dozen infantry to that sort of thing."

Peter hesitated and then shrugged. "Point taken and I'd have to be selective, but Clovis can't rebuild the 'Mechs on his own. Where else can I get the technicians? General Sanchez and Marshal Cooper wouldn't thank me for headhunting their support staff."

"It's a fair point." Ardan leant down over the table and looked at Peter's screen. "Looking at warships?"

"I've not really dealt with them before. Actually, not many people have. It does seem to me though, that we'd be much better off if we could prevent the ships under construction from falling into Katrina's hands."

"In principle, yes. But in practise, it's another case of too high a risk for us to take at this point."

Peter slammed one hand against his thigh. "If not now then when? She's sitting on media control, she's neutralised Hasek and Sandoval, she's got at least half the existing warships under captains loyal to her. We need to chip away at her position or she's simply going to be able to isolate our allies and destroy us piecemeal."

"Taking Addicks is just the first step," Ardan promised him. "Our next step is to secure Tikonov - that gives us a strategic position to support the fighting in the Capellan March and strike into the Crucis March. Not to mention giving us access to the factories -" He broke off as the comm on his belt chimed. "Excuse me."

Raising the comm to his ear he turned away. "This is Sortek."

There was a pause as he listened to the voice on the comm. His face grew set. "I see. I'll be there directly." Closing the channel he tucked the comm away. "Excuse me, I need to go down to the command centre immediately."

"Bad news?" asked Peter. Don't let it be Bishop Sortek moving now! It's too early.

"I don't know yet," the old Field Marshal said, but his face marked him as lying.

* * *

Chapter 17

Loknar DQ, Addicks

Draconis March, Federated Commonwealth

4 April 3063

Trucks rolling up to the Glowworm wasn't a surprise to Daniel. He'd expected that Ardan Morgan's mysterious acquaintance would want the BattleMechs off the dropship and in his hands as soon as possible. Perhaps Morgan would get his cut or not, that wasn't Daniel's problem.

The surprise was that the trucks were carrying crates, and if Daniel was reading the stenciled markings correctly - and he probably was, the amount of military hardware that his father handled made learning military shorthand advisable - the crates on the first truck contained Valiant Scutum ferrofibrous armour.

"Are you sure that you're supposed to be bringing that here?" he asked dubiously as the driver of the first truck came to a halt.

"Glowworm, right?" the man asked. "Ya, we unload this and then we're taking on cargo for the Clarent, over there." He gestured in the direction of the next pad over where an Excalibur-class combined arms transport easily half again the size of the Glowworm had its hatches open.

Daniel rubbed his forehead and then stepped aside to let them get on with it. Glowworm was Mael Calium's ship, after all. He and his father could take the shuttle back to Bifrost and leave the dropship and Morgan to their own devices.

He'd just about made it to the shuttle when his father arrived in a military jeep. "I was beginning to think they'd locked you up," he called.

Clovis shook his head. "Just until they confirmed my identity. The usual precautions."

"If it's all the same to you, dad, let's not take more jobs like this."

"You're young to be so jaded, Daniel." His father waved the jeep's driver away. "Some jobs need to be done."

"That may apply to maintaining a fusion reactor, but politics."

Clovis shook his head. "It's the same principle. Here, take a seat."

Daniel stared at him for a moment but when his father patted the steps by the shuttle hatch he sighed and obeyed.

"Societies are much like complex machinery," Clovis told him sagely. "There are many many parts and connections, and it's very hard to make it work. When it doesn't someone needs to fix it."

"And Ardan Morgan figures he can fix it? That's kind of ambitious." He spread his hands. "This war's bigger than any one person."

"I wouldn't be so sure." His father paused. "You know who he is, don't you?"

Daniel gave him a suspicious look. "One of your old Heimdall connections?"

That got him a thump to the upper arm. "Didn't you ever look at him, Daniel? That's Peter Steiner-Davion."

"...what?" He shook his head. "Dad, that's ridiculous. What are you going to claim next? That his sister's..." His voice trailed off. Cat Morgan did look a hell of a lot like the Archon. "You're kidding."

His father shook his head. "Heimdall's business is to keep the Archon from exceeding their remit. We've been ill-prepared to deal with Katrina, too many people assumed she would follow in her grandmother's footsteps when they should have known better."

"It's not our job to keep the Steiner-Davion's in line, dad. We run a jumpship. We provide engineering solutions. Not..."

"Poisoning a treacherous duke?"

Daniel blinked.

His father didn't meet his eyes. "I've never told you about your grandfather."

"I... thought he was dead. On one of the Skye worlds, during a Kurita raid? Grandmother joined Heimdall after a raid back in 3005."

Clovis glanced around. "No. He was wounded then. Justice of a sort, since he raped my mother and his injury meant he could never do that again." There was a savage satisfaction to that. "But that didn't stop his plotting. Or his attempts to harm those who sought to defend the rightful Archon and her loyal allies."

"Dad, I don't understand, you said something about... he was a duke?"

"Have you ever heard of Aldo Lestrade?"

He thought. "One of Duchess Aten's family? She was adopted by the last Lestrade duke I think."

"You know," Clovis said. "I'm glad he's been forgotten. He was the Duke of Summer and the leader of the Free Skye movement up until the Fourth Succession War. He was my father." He leant back and studied the sky. "And when he pushed too far, I snuck into his castle, poisoned his brandy and then had a long and frank talk with him to keep him from realising until it was too late to do anything about it."

"Dad!"

"Does that shock you, Daniel?"

"Well, yes!" His father was an assassin! How could that be possible. He'd killed his own father? Daniel couldn't imagine doing that to one of his family.

"Good, then I've raised you right. If I behaved that way then I hope someone would stop me." Clovis put one hand on his shoulder. "The first time I met Melissa Steiner she was willing to surrender herself to save innocent lives. We couldn't let her, of course. The Archon-Designate in Kurita hands would be an nightmare, but she was willing to sacrifice herself for others. And she was almost certainly assassinated to clear the way for our current ruler - a woman who's abandoned allies, removed freedom of speech and even disbanded the Estates-General."

"You're saying she's worse than... than Lestrade." Daniel studied his hands. "Why us? Why not...?" He trailed off.

"What do you think Peter came here for? He's building a force to take her down."

"For his brother's sake. Or for his own?" Thinking about 'Ardan Morgan', Daniel could see in hindsight the confidence - arrogance really - of royalty. But was he really any better than the Archon was?

Clovis' face grew grim. "It's not a given that Victor will live to see Katrina dethroned. Ardan Sortek does not approve of rushing to New Avalon now, which is what Peter has in mind."

"So they're at odds?"

"In this case, Peter will have his way." His father's eyes were distant. "The latest news is that Prince Victor has been ambushed by the Fourteenth Donegal Guards, led by his cousin Adam. His forces are scattered and it's entirely possible he's already been captured or killed."

Daniel rose and looked over at the Glowworm. "That would gut resistance to the Archon, wouldn't it?"

Clovis nodded grimly. "Peter and Yvonne don't have the sort of reputation to step into his shoes. Catherine would almost certainly be dismissed as an imposter. If Victor survives, well and good. But if he doesn't then we have a limited opportunity to take her down."

"You don't think that this is a forlorn hope?"

"Of course it is. But so is one dwarf challenging the ruler of an entire planet." His father hesitated. "If you don't want to go with us, I'll understand. I know your heart isn't in it."

Daniel shrugged uneasily. "Do my feelings really matter?"

"If you mean, will I withdraw for your sake then no. But you're a grown man and just because your mother and I are willing to risk ourselves doesn't force you to do the same. If you want to follow another path, we'll not love or respect you any less."

"You wouldn't think I was a coward?"

Clovis stood up, his head barely above his son's even when Daniel remained seated. "It takes more courage to stand up and make a choice for yourself than it does to follow someone else's cause."

That was reassuring, but it was also a weighty burden.

"I don't care about causes," he said at last. "But someone obviously needs to be a voice of reason. Between you and his sister, Peter's going to need someone with a level head."

Daniel's father clasped his shoulder, wordless for a moment. "Besides your mother, you mean?" he said at last.

"Mother puts up with your sense of humour. I'm not sure we can rely on her for good sense. Now how about we dig out your design data on the Mackie, I've had an idea about how we can fix the ammunition storage."

His father's eyebrows rose and he gestured up the steps into the shuttle. "Now this I have to see. Getting cellular ammo storage in there would make me feel a lot better about their survivability..."


	4. Crucis March

Part Four - Crucis March

_This is my fight song_

_Take back my life song_

_Prove I'm alright song_

_My power's turned on_

* * *

Chapter 18

Proximity Jump Point, Logandale System

Crucis March, Federated Commonwealth

27 April 3063

Searcy grinned as he saw the Mackie moving up the canyon. It wore the red-and-black of the Robinson Rangers but that was an artifact of the simulation - each mechwarrior saw enemy 'Mechs in those colours and friendlies in the blue-and-gold of the Royal Guards.

The 'Mech in question was moving awkwardly, something that marked the pilot out more than any colouring would. The Clarent's small cargo bay was tall enough for a pair of full simulator pods obtained from the Addicks DMM base to be installed, so simulated combat had moved to the Excalibur-class ship with most mechwarriors cycling through one pod to keep the basic skills sharp while otherwise relying on Holstein's more limited simulators (now up to six in number).

The only complete novice on the roster of the 5th Royal Guards had primary access to the second pod: as a complete novice, Catherine's training had to be as realistic as possible, so she split it between the simulator pod and when conditions allowed, heavily supervised practise in the Clarent's small mech deck with one of the completed Mackies.

She was still greener than grass though and no one was following her, which meant that Searcy had a chance to pick her off alone and drop the enemy force to only three 'Mechs.

It felt a bit like shooting fish in a barrel but he'd be doing her no kindness to go easy on her.

Moving his own Mackie forward slowly out of cover, he reached the corner she'd gone behind and darted around it.

He expected to see the red-and-black shape of her Mackie only a few hundred metres away, perhaps even facing him. Instead she was facing him almost right behind the turn and the two ninety-ton machines ground against each other, torso lasers slashing into each other at point-blank range.

Damn! Searcy thought and back-pedalled hastily. This close, the arm mounted weapons could barely be brought to bear and she could hardly miss with the chest lasers. Better to get back around and engage under more favourable conditions.

That was when a flicker of movement out of the corner of his eyes warned of more Mackies moving in. Searcy whipped the Mackie around as fast as he could, barely shielding his vulnerable rear armour, but he couldn't avoid taking a full salvo from two more of the enemy lance.

A pair of PPCs ripped into his left side, followed by lasers and autocannon. Almost a ton and a half of armour protection all but evaporated - and beneath that were three full tons of autocannon ammunition.

The explosion almost dropped his 'Mech to the ground. If Clovis hadn't updated the simulation to reflect the CASE being fitted to the real thing, the Mackie would have died then and there.

Back was deadly, to the side almost as exposed - Searcy flung his Mackie forward, jinking around Catherine's Mackie and using it as cover until he could reach the next twist in the narrow canyons. "Baker lance, this is Lead!" he snapped. "Engaging three hostiles at grid reference golf seven."

An instinct had him glance aside and he swore, throwing the Mackie to one side just before a PPC bolt nearly skewered his cockpit from above and behind. "Make that all four of them."

"Roger that, sir. Moving to join you."

"Negative. I'm retreating into foxtrot seven." He considered the map. "There's one up top, get yourselves into foxtrot six and catch him from the flank."

"Yes, sir."

Sir. He could get used to that. Searcy shook his head and slowed his Mackie, moving to shield the ravaged right flank. Punch the first 'Mech around the corner with his remaining weapons and then duck back. All he had to do was slow them down while his lance took on the 'Mech up top...

Waiting... His fingers tensed around the joysticks and he could feel sweat on his brow, not from heat as the temperature in this pod didn't alter appreciably...

Where were they...?

Telemetry from Baker Three disappeared from his monitor. "Baker Lead, this is Four. We've just been flanked from Foxtrot five! Three is down, we're falling back!"

Dammit! They'd suckered him! He turned the Mackie and started scrambling up the steep but not impossible slope of the side. It would have been easier with both arms, easier still if the Mackie had hands but at the cost of some superficial damage to his 'Mech he managed to get it up to the top.

Smoke marked the wreckage of one of his lance, tracer fire identifying where the battle was still raging. Searcy opened his throttle and raced towards the sight and sound of the guns. He'd have the high ground now...

When he reached the next gorge though, all he saw was a pair of blue and gold Mackies, colours visible around battered armour and in one case the stump of the left arm. They snapped their weapons up as he reached the edge and he had to backpedal. "Situation report?"

"I think we lost them." Baker Four's voice was wavering with uncertainty. "They pushed us back down the slope and we took cover here and..."

"Okay, got it." He flicked his sensors to magscan, thermal... nothing. "Hit and run. Nicely done too. We'd better stick together now."

Searcy had thought the three less experienced mechwarriors would slow him down so he'd gone ahead to scout alone. Big mistake, he acknowledged as he worked the Mackie down the canyon side.

His first sign that this was a trap was a flare around the cockpit as a fusillade struck his Mackie's chest. He tried to back up, but the canyon side was far too steep to reverse his descent. With no alternative he let himself slide, dropping down below the rim of the canyon and avoiding further fire.

"Sir." Baker Two's Mackie tried to help him right his 'Mech. "I think they have us pinned down."

"You think?" Searcy looked at the map and then at the status of his lance. "Did you cause them any serious damage?"

"I don't think so."

If this was just combat training, Searcy thought, he would press on and do all the damage he could before the three of them were taken down. But right now he had next to no frontal armour left and the other two survivors were barely better - and this was lance on lance, with command performance being evaluated.

"Control, this is Baker Lead. We've tangled with a lance of enemy assault 'Mechs currently somewhere in the echo five grid square," he reported, fighting to keep frustration from his voice. "We got the worst of it and we can't push through to the objective. I request permission to withdraw."

He couldn't help but think back to another request he'd made along those lines. One that had seen him discharged from the AFFC for cowardice. The silence dragged on and then:

"Confirmed, Baker Lead. Pull your 'Mechs back to base. No use throwing your lance away."

Long before the three Mackies reached the original starting location, the screens went dead and the simulator hatch opened. Captain Gordon was looking down into it from above and extended his hand wordlessly.

Unbuckling himself, Searcy removed the neurohelmet and accepted the help in exiting.

"You've seen action before?" asked Gordon. The blond mechwarrior still had the badge of the Assault Guards on his jacket, patches for the Royal Guards not having been readily available.

"A few times."

Gordon grinned unexpectedly. "Good call pulling back. The best a new leftenant usually manages is pushing harder on instinct... which can work. But it can also cost us men and machines for no real gain."

"I have to give Steiner-Davion credit," Searcy admitted. "He mouse-trapped me pretty well."

"Yeah. You both learned something today." Something cold played behind Gordon's eyes. "Keep learning and you might be ready by the time we reach New Avalon."

"I'll do that, sir."

And that'll be the last time you lure me in with a wounded duck, your highness, Searcy thought sharply. Fool me once, shame on you. But twice? Not happening.

* * *

Chapter 19

Zenith Jump Point, Marlette System

Crucis March, Federated Commonwealth

1 May 3063

Every receiver on Bifrost and the two dropships was recording data. One of Ardan's provisions for the expedition had been every decryption key available to him, which wasn't as many military codes as he liked - Katrina's Marshal of Armies, Jackson Davion, was no fool and was changing those as quickly as he could since defectors were handing them over to Victor's allies - but it did include enough commercial codes to have some of the major interstellar corporations in a cold sweat if they'd realised.

"Lots of complaints about jumpship availability," Peter noted as he scanned through a summary of some of the intercepts.

Clovis nodded. "That would fit. I've had more than a dozen queries about whether we can take on a shipment. Some of them even offered to pay any cancellation fees for moving our current ships if we'd take theirs on."

"Generous."

Karla Brennan shook her head. "I would say worrying. At some point someone may wonder why you're not accepting these offers. There aren't that many possible answers."

The Bifrost had been using outer system jump points well outside normal traffic routes as they made their way deeper into the Federated Suns. False identity codes were most useful if no one ever challenged them, after all, but after shifting some of the completed Mackie chassis back to the Glowworm two days before, clearing room for another twenty-four incomplete units aboard the Clarent, there would be less suspicious activity for the next little while.

Moving the 'Mechs through zero gravity had been an interesting exercise with over a hundred people in EVA suits. Unavoidable though - the Clarent only had twelve 'Mech bays and they were in use for the actual conversion work. As a result, finished Mackies were being laid out in vehicle bays, a less than ideal solution given access routes and limited availability of flatbeds to move them.

"There's no point arguing over it now," Peter said as he closed up the summary and moved to a listing of what the news had to say. "We're here now and if it all goes wrong, feel free to tell me you told me so."

"I defer that to our son," Karla told him, taking Clovis' hand. "I think those were almost his first words."

Peter hid a smile at the married couple. Maybe he'd find himself such a relationship one day. It hadn't been possible at Saint Marinus House, but if Victor could find happiness... well.

The smile slipped off his face as he watched a Federated News Service broadcast. The focus was on the fighting with the Combine, with barely a mention of disloyal elements being suppressed by the armed forces. "What the hell happened to FNS? They used to be indomitable."

"It's easy to be indomitable when the government grants the press its traditional freedoms," Catherine murmured.

Conner Sortek nodded from his place at the table. He might be junior but his family connections gave him a perspective Peter found valuable. "Several of their reporters and presenters have dropped out of sight since Katrina ousted Yvonne's regency," he advised. "I wouldn't be surprised if they, and the more indomitable of the corporation's officers, are enjoying the Archon's hospitality somewhere."

"Using the ironic form of enjoyed there?" Peter shook his head to show the question was rhetorical. Technically speaking the Federated Suns didn't have a free press: government censorship was a firmly protected perquisite of the First Prince. But House Davion almost never actually employed that option. A little bad press, his father had told him, wasn't worth a reputation of fearing public opinion.

Clovis leant back as a chirp came from his comm and lifted it onto the desk. "Captain Colium?"

"Holstein, good." The dropship captain's voice wasn't quite as unruffled as Peter usually found it. "Have you been watching the recharge station?"

"Not personally. Why?" Marlette's Zenith point benefited from a recently restored Star League era recharge station that could bring a jumpdrive up to full charge in hours rather than the usual days. Its service wasn't cheap, which was one reason why Bifrost wasn't taking advantage of it, but it had helped the world hold onto its place on the trade routes between Terra and New Avalon.

"I think you should. There's been some military activity."

Clovis raised his eyebrows. "I'll do so." He left the table that they were using and the others followed him out into Bifrost's command deck where the dwarf brought up the holotank and selected a data feed on local space, backdating the last hour and running through it at twenty times normal speed.

"What's that, a Claymore assault ship?" asked Peter, pointing at one icon.

"Yes, and a squadron of Corsair aerospace fighters."

"I thought they were all in Lyran space."

Clovis shrugged. "It would seem not. They've expanded production at the Shipil yards, I know that."

Peter seized hold of a rail. "Remind me of their capabilities."

"About the size of an old Avenger-class assault ship but a bit slower - thrust to weight is close to that of the fighters. Enough weapons to be a problem."

Assault ships had been the backbone of the Inner Sphere's space combatants for the interim between the battles of the early Succession Wars devouring the warship fleets of the Star League and the revival of full-size warships to face the Clans. The Claymore was around one-tenth the size of the Clarent, but it had at least as much firepower, all concentrated into fore and aft weapon bays rather than spaced out for full coverage.

Aggressively handled, the assault ship could destroy Peter's entire force, especially with the support of the fighter squadron.

Looking at the angle of movement, Clovis nodded. "Fetch Daniel so he can tell us he told us so. We've been rumbled."

"They're not heading for us." Conner studied the vectors carefully. "Not directly."

"No, but they're just being cagey." Sticking one finger into the display, Clovis cast a shadow across it. "They'll get about here, then light up their main drives and generate an intercept. I'd guess that that's when they'll challenge us."

"No boarding shuttles?" asked Peter curiously.

"The Claymore has a cargo hold, they probably crammed one in there."

He nodded his understanding and cursed himself for being overconfident. The matters on New Dallas had gone so smoothly, escaping well before any Word of Blake response might have arrived, that he'd assumed they could slip through the Federated Commonwealth with equal ease. He'd planned ahead, but there would be a price for the failure. "Alright. Still, it's possible they aren't after us. Unlikely, but we may as well let things play out. If they are, we'll still have time for our fallback strategy."

The hatch opened to admit Daniel Holstein who took one look at the holotable. "I didn't think that our cover would stand up to scrutiny," he concluded. "Do we have time to hot-charge the drive?"

Clovis shook his head. "Not a chance. Maybe if we'd started on arrival, but they'll be on us inside of an hour."

Daniel made a face. "Damn."

"Get everyone into vacsuits," Peter ordered. "I don't think we'll need them but I didn't think they'd spot us either. And have Clarent and Glowworm lock everything down for maneuvering."

While many of those aboard the three ships were able to prepare space gear quickly, it took most of the fifteen minutes Clovis had guessed they had for the rest. Catherine needed help to get into hers and Peter was helping her with the helmet when Clovis' voice came over the speakers.

"All hands, the FCS MacBeth has just challenged our identity. She's inbound with a six fighter cover patrol. Leftenant-General Sortek's men will prepare to receive boarders. Everyone else should stay out of their way."

"How many Sorteks are there?" Karla asked, looking over at Conner.

Conner dropped the visor of his helmet to check it was working and then lifted it. "Not that many, but most of us in the AFFC are with the Davion Guards. Terias is my sister."

"What? You never said anything!"

The young mechwarrior shrugged. "We had a falling out a few years back. Pretty childish really, but we never quite got around to burying the hatchet."

Peter shook his head, confirming his helmet moved freely, and then triggered the comm. "Clovis, have you sent the signal?"

"As soon as they challenged us. Do you want me to try and bluff them?"

"Yeah, it won't hold up but anything that keeps them from opening fire..."

The dwarf chuckled. "Yes, that could be unfortunate."

They reached the command deck again in time to see the aerospace fighters moving in, backed by the sleek, swan-like shape of FCS MacBeth. Clovis closed his microphone as they reached him. "Real hard-nosed commander over there," he said. "He doesn't believe we're carrying candy."

Peter glanced at the data readout on the Clarent, a clear military transport - not that many hadn't been reconfigured for cargo service over the years - and rubbed his chin. "But we're so innocent and inoffensive."

"Jump signature!" a voice called. "Big one, right between us and the enemy."

Conner pointed at the holotank. "They've noticed." The MacBeth and the six fighters had spun through ninety degrees and gone to overthrust. Hard-nosed or not, the assault ship's commander was clearly decisive. Being too close to an inbound jumpship was never a good idea and the sheer scale must have warned them of what it must be.

"This will be spectacular," Clovis told them all and indicated a screen. They only had to wait a moment and then iridescent light marked the jumpship exiting hyperspace only a few thousand kilometres away from them.

The light faded to reveal not the long, needle-like form of a conventional jumpship but a squat thimble-shape, each indentation marking some critical function. Deceptively small as it appeared, the new arrival outmassed the Bifrost and its attached dropships by a hefty margin.

"All ships," a level voice announced. "This is FCS Intrepid. We are now in control of this jump point. Units loyal to Archon Katrina have sixty seconds to vacate the area or surrender. This is non-negotiable."

The Corsairs, no fools and without the range to escape, flipped over and began to slow. Peter heard the pilots indicating their acceptance of the terms.

FCS MacBeth could readily have reached Marlette itself but instead it started shaping its course into a loop that would have brought it back towards the Bifrost.

"That bloody fool," Clovis snarled.

Peter grabbed a microphone. "MacBeth, this is Peter Steiner-Davion. Abort your maneuver before you get your crew killed."

There was no reply.

"I say again, abort your run!"

The little dropship's lifeboats burst away from its sides. For a moment he thought sanity had broken out but then the aft weapon mounts opened up on the lifeboats as they fell behind. One blew apart under the fire.

The first shots from the Intrepid's battery autocannon blew the wing off the MacBeth. The dropship went into a tumble but the broadside lasers fired next and intercepted it before it could stabilise.

"Crew of fifteen, less whoever's on the lifeboat," Daniel said in a strained voice.

"Plus any boarding troops they were carrying." His father's voice was no less shocked.

Peter lowered the microphone. "And as soon as an HPG message gets to New Avalon, Katrina will know I'm coming and that Intrepid's backing us up." He shook his head. "Could have turned out better, I must admit."

* * *

Chapter 20

Zenith Jump Point, Marlette System

Crucis March, Federated Commonwealth

7 May 3063

"Dad, we need to talk."

"That's what we have mouths for." Clovis had his head and shoulders inside the shoulder of a skeletal Mackie, working on a balky ammunition feed. "Pass me the hydrospanner."

Daniel scanned the available tools laid out. "Large or small?"

"Small."

He provided the tool. "I've finished the diagnostic checks on the upgraded Mackies."

"That was fast, we just finished up the fifth batch yesterday." His father made an adjustment and made an approving noise. "Very industrious."

Daniel sighed. "Okay, not those twelve. Just first forty-eight of them."

"And?"

"Thirteen have acceptable but undesirable faults."

"Only thirteen?" Clovis withdrew from the shoulder. "That's better than expected. Much better."

"Not really. Of the rest, thirty-two have unacceptable faults. Life support, sealing, myomers constrained by the armour plating... the list goes on. Only three of them are fully fit for service."

His father chewed on his upper lip. "You probably should have led with that." He scratched at the corner of his mouth and examined the oil that ended up on the finger. "Are there any that can't move and fight in a pinch? The definition of 'unacceptable' is a lot broader than most people assume."

Daniel checked his notes. "Nothing's below minimum functionality, but it's..."

"What?"

He sighed. "One of the techs working with me said it was like working with freshly shipped Quikscell units."

"Harsh." Clovis shook his head. "Harsh but not unfair. These aren't exactly factory conditions."

"I don't think there's much choice but to cycle the 'Mechs back through the bays and rewrite the manual on the upgrade process to try avoid this for the remaining chassis," Daniel told him. "It'll take time but otherwise we'll be putting the mechwarriors in danger."

"I'm not sure we have that time." His father shook his head. "We have a margin of time after we finish upgrading all one hundred and eight 'Mechs, but it's not long enough to go back over the ones we've already refitted all again. Just moving them in and out of the bays would take half a week."

Daniel pressed his lips together. "How do you think the Mechwarriors will feel about this?"

"Pretty goddamn pissed off, but this isn't something new to the military profession. It's normal campaign circumstances for 'Mechs to be well below factory conditions. I'm not saying we shouldn't fix everything we can, of course," his father added in a pacifying tone. "But the priority is making sure we can field the 'Mechs in the first place."

He pursed his lips. "I'd like to hear that from the prince, father. I don't want him to have unrealistic expectations."

"Okay, let's ask him." His father pulled out a rag and wiped his face. "Better to settle this now."

The two made the familiar journey back to the collar linking the Clarent to the Bifrost and then up the jumpship to the habitation decks. So far there had been no immediate response to the Intrepid's usurpation of control of space around the recharge station, other than a lot of angry messages from the surface of Marlette where a General Waxton had vociferously protested the destruction of the MacBeth and what he styled as a blockade, even though Intrepid had done nothing at all to civilian shipping and the Nadir jump point was entirely unaffected.

As they reached the cabin still used by the two Steiner-Davions, they met Catherine leaving the room. "Good..." She paused and checked her watch. "Evening."

"Good evening, princess," Clovis greeted her warmly. "How's your training going?"

She considered. "I won't ever make a Solaris gladiator, but I think I'm getting better. Is there a problem? You're usually in the 'Mech bays at this time."

"We're having a quality control issue," Daniel told her. "I want to run a solution past your brother."

Catherine gave him a thoughtful look. "He's asleep, how bad is it?"

"We're going to have to run the finished units back through the 'Mech bays."

"It's not quite that bad, son."

The woman studied them and then gestured to a small nook that had been converted into a seating booth. "Walk me through it."

Daniel glanced at Clovis and then followed Cat when his father seemed amenable. "More than ninety percent of the Mackies finished so far are having issues," he explained.

She nodded. "Can you give me a more detailed summary, please?"

He turned his noteputer around and brought up his list of faults for the units. "See for yourself."

Catherine took the noteputer from him and read through the list. She stopped part way. "May I take notes on this?"

"Sure."

She nodded and opened up a spreadsheet programme, copying data across at a rapid pace. Daniel sat back and watched her, wondering how long she could maintain focus before her issues arose. To his surprise she managed to read through all the data before leaning back and rubbing her forehead. "How hard can it be?" she muttered to herself.

"How hard can what be?"

The blonde fixed her blue-gray eyes on Daniel for a moment. "I'm not entirely sure," she admitted. "Sometimes... never mind." She studied her notes. "The fourth batch of upgrades are the worst. Do the technicians need a day off?"

"We're under time pressure," Clovis reminded her.

Cat nodded. "Haste makes waste. Take..." She leant over. "Give them a day off and a day of coaching on what causes the worst issues. Do all these fixes need the 'Mech bays?"

"We can probably handle some of them in storage," Daniel conceded. "It'd be harder and we'd need people to do the work though."

"There are more than a hundred mechwarriors," she told him. "Can you teach them the simple fixes?"

Daniel winced at the thought of people with limited technical skills trying to patch up the faults he'd catalogued. "Some of them."

Cat gave him a warm smile. "Make a list of the simplest repairs and help them," she instructed. "Giving the technical crews a break and some refresher training should mean the remaining 'Mechs are in better shape after conversion."

"It's a fair compromise." Daniel saw his father looking at him.

"Fine!" He threw his hands up and took his noteputer back. "You're going to be risking your neck in them, I guess if you're okay with it."

She nodded. "Let me know when you have 'Mech Repair for Dummies ready. I'll work with them."

"I think you need the sims more than you need to be getting your hands dirty on the 'Mechs, princess," Clovis told her.

"Sometimes the best way to lead is from the front," she said seriously. "I have to set a good exe... example."

Daniel looked at her notes. "I should tell Prince Peter about this."

"After he has slept." Catherine held up her hand. "After you have slept. We all need our rest."

"Now you sound like my mother."

"Mother knows best," the blonde told him so sincerely that it took him aback.

"You have a point," Clovis acknowledged. "You've put a lot of time into checking the 'Mechs, Daniel. You need a break just as much as our crews do - and if I wasn't tired as well I would have noticed that myself. I'll go tell them to knock it off for twenty-four hours and then we can figure out how to avoid the problems you've identified."

"I..." Daniel looked at them both and then looked at Cat's notes on his computer. She'd identified that the conversion quality was falling off as they went on, something he'd missed. "Maybe you're right," he admitted.

"That's more case by case," Cat admitted so ruefully that he couldn't help but laugh.

* * *

Chapter 21

Canaveral City, Galax

Crucis March, Federated Commonwealth

9 June 3063

"The Marshal will see you now."

Jon Davion thanked the aide solemnly and placed his uniform cap beneath his arm before entering the office. The room behind was about the same size as his own office, albeit with a slightly better view of the base parade ground where one of the regimental bands was currently practising. The furnishings - mainly an expansive desk and office chair - were perhaps of fractionally better quality and the flags of the Federated Suns and the Davion Guards were on stands to one side.

Jon paused a moment to look at the first flag. For almost his entire career the flag there had been the Fist and Sunburst of the Federated Commonwealth. The reversion to the Sword and Sunburst, along with the green AFFS uniform he wore, left him feeling a little off-balance.

Ann Adelmana had left her seat as he entered. "Jon, come in," she greeted him warmly. "Take a seat."

"Thank you for finding time for me," he returned the greeting and accepted the chair facing her desk.

Considerately, the Marshal adjusted the blinds so that she wasn't a silhouette against the bright sun outside. "How can I help you?" she asked as she sank back into her seat.

He'd thought through how to start but hesitated before beginning. "I was wondering if I should be preparing my brigade for movement offworld, Marshal."

Adelmana leant back in her chair. "We don't have any movement orders, General Davion." The earlier intimacy had vanished when he used her rank. "I would have shared them if I did."

"And if I may ask, have there been no suggestions from New Avalon that orders may be forthcoming."

A shake of the head. "Nothing of that sort. In or out of confidence. Were you expecting something of the sort? Some back-channel through your cousin Jackson?"

"I haven't heard anything recently from him," he confirmed. As Marshal of Armies, Jackson Davion answered only to their distant cousin Katrina, who had begun to style herself the Archon-Princess. "My concern is prompted by the arrival of the Remagen CrMM." He pronounced the last acronym 'cream' - it stood for Crucis March Militia. It was rare for a March Militia to leave the region or defense zone they were stationed in and though Remagen was a world within New Avalon combat region, the March Militia named for it was actually based in the adjacent Nunivak region as a result of historical boundary changes.

The Marshal shrugged with indifference that wasn't entirely authentic to Jon's eyes. "General Sheller isn't bringing his troops here to replace us, if that's what you're getting at."

"No sir. I had a brief message from Lucy Davion, who commands their armored brigade." She was also a close cousin of he and Jackson, part of the admittedly sprawling branch of House Davion that counted the world of Victoria as their home.

"And what did this cousin have to say?"

"Nothing we aren't both cleared for," Jon assured the Marshal. "But I'm aware that the Remagen CrMM are being called in to reinforce New Avalon's defenses. They've been travelling almost a month and they'll need another jump to reach the capital."

"Go on."

"We're only one jump away and meaning no disrespect to our comrades in arms within the CrMM... the Heavy Guards are a far larger and more capable force. If the capital is in danger, why call on them and not on us?"

"I would assume - having not been consulted - that Galax is also potentially at risk. And we are, after all, protecting a very important industrial world. Losing Nunivak, were it to be attacked, would be far less damaging than seeing the shipyards here fall into the wrong hands."

Jon nodded slowly. "However, New Avalon is an even higher priority. If it appears that the capital is about to fall, I would expect the Heavy Guards to be called on; and with some urgency."

"A reasonable expectation, yes." Adelmana folded her hands. "Unfortunately, we have no jumpships assigned to us at the moment so it would be rather difficult for us to respond."

Jon leant forwards. "It seems to me that it might be wise to see what could be done to remedy that. If transport command isn't in a position to restore our flotilla, there are civilian jumpships that could be commandeered."

She nodded. "That, at the moment, would exceed my authority. If the situation changes and Katrina Steiner calls for us, rest assured that I will respond appropriately."

Damn. She wasn't buying it. "I see, sir. My apologies for..."

Adelmana waved her hand dismissively. "Not at all, Jon. I appreciate you bringing me your concerns." She smiled crookedly. "Since you have the time to worry, perhaps you could make more productive use of it by assisting the Department of the Quartermaster. We've had a request for assistance in evaluating Federated-Boeing's new troop transport and it seems to me that the Third Huron Panzers would be ideal as the armored component of the tests." The Huron Panzers weren't just part of Jon's brigade, they were his direct command.

"The new... Conquerors?"

"Conquistadors," she corrected him. "I was considering assigning the job to Colonel Iglar since one of her infantry battalions is participating, but a Major General would be able to take a broader view."

"Of course, sir. I'll contact Federated-Boeing directly and arrange matters," Jon agreed promptly. He'd not done an evaluation like this before but he could guess already that it would be time consuming and involve a lot of paperwork.

"Thank you, Jon." Adelmana steepled her hands. "And do remind your cousin that just because it isn't specifically prohibited to inform officers with the right security clearance of your unit's movements, nor is it authorised. Need to know is a principle as well as a security classification."

Jon dipped his head and, accepting the mild reprimand as a dismissal, rose. As he left the room he turned his head and saw that his commander was standing again, looking out of the window.

Did someone get to her? he wondered. Katherine is a Davion by blood, but not by much else, while Victor led us to victory against the Smoke Jaguars. If something's happening here, in the heartlands of the Federated Suns... what side is the Marshal on?

For that matter - and a chill went down his spine - what side are Jackson and Lucy on? Jackson's claimed so far that Katherine's the legitimate authority... and Lucy's unit has been called in, meaning that Katherine counts them as reliable.

Am I going to have to do what Victor's doing? Fight against my own family?

* * *

Chapter 22

Proximity Jump Point, Odell

Crucis March, Federated Commonwealth

14 June 3063

"In my absence," the prince informed the officers, "I'm leaving Max Sears in charge of -"

Conner frowned. "Sir."

"Is there a problem, leftenant?"

He'd have to pick his words carefully. "Respectfully, sir, his name isn't Sears. He may have qualifications I'm not aware of, but there are other, more experienced, officers here."

The cramped briefing room fell silent as all eyes snapped from Conner to the prince's aide. The mechwarrior was ranked as a leftenant but there were so few officers available to the Fifth Royal Guards that he was present as a company commander, as was Conner.

"So who are you?" Captain Gordon folded his arms.

He looked resigned. "My name's Michael Searcy."

"...the gladiator?"

Searcy nodded, jerkily. "Rumours of my death, etc." He looked over at Conner. "How did you guess?"

"Everyone has a hobby, I happen to follow the games on Solaris VII. That mustache of yours isn't much of a disguise." Conner leant forwards. "As far as I'm aware, you were drummed out of the Kestrel Grenadiers in disgrace. I've no doubt you're an excellent mechwarrior -" They'd crossed paths more than once in the sims, after all. "- but leaving you in command is... concerning."

Prince Peter tapped the table, face thunderous. "If I may finish, leftenant?"

Conner coloured. "Yes sir."

"Leftenant Searcy - whose identity I am fully aware of - will take charge of first battalion during my absence. Overall mission command will be my sister's. Do I hear any other objections?"

There weren't enough 'Mechs for command lances so Peter himself led both the regiment as well as first battalion and one of its companies. The other two companies in first battalion were Searcy's and Conner's.

Seeing the Prince's attention was fully on him, Conner shook his head slightly. "No further objections, sir."

"Good."

"Are you sure Catherine is... able to lead?" asked Karla Holstein.

Conner arched an eyebrow. He'd stuck his neck out objecting to Searcy - a dishonoured former officer. But for a civilian to question the prince's decisions was even bolder, particularly when it came to his sister.

Surprising him though, Peter considered the point. "In regards to her health, I'd hesitate about a tactical command," he said at last. "No offense, Cat."

"I don't disagree," the blonde said quietly. "I've barely had time to take in how to pilot a 'Mech. Leading others... is best kept to those with more military training."

"Quite. But you know our mission better than anyone here." He glanced around. "Leftenant-General Sortek and I are necessary for one half of our operations, which leaves you the other half."

Conner watched as the woman squared her shoulders and nodded. Karla looked unhappy but said nothing. The prince's attention snapped back to Conner all of a sudden. "Since you're so concerned, leftenant, you can double as Cat's aide. She'll need one."

"Yes sir." Babysitting royalty. Was it like this for Dad?

"I'm not just picking you for this because you spoke up," Peter added. "You grew up around the Heavy Guards so you're a natural fit for this side of the mission."

"Yes, sir. I understand."

Peter nodded. "Any other business?" When no one spoke up, the prince stood and escorted Cat out of the room, other officers trickling out in ones and twos.

Not wanting to draw further attention, Conner remained seated and let them leave. He was startled to see Searcy was also waiting and when they were alone in the compartment, the gladiator nudged the door closed.

"Is there something I can do for you, leftenant?"

Searcy sat down again. "Maybe we should clear the air a little. You don't think I should be leading a company."

"I didn't say that." Conner hesitated. "In that respect you're probably more qualified than I am."

"And yet you needed to undercut me like that?" Searcy rubbed his mustache. "I suppose I may as well shave this off," he mused and then looked back at Conner. "We've got a little bit of a confused chain of command. As a company commander, you'll answer to me in the prince's absence. As the princess' aide, you answer to her."

"And while she's a mechwarrior under your command, she's also the mission commander."

"Yeah, one little knot of conflicting authority. I'm not sure if the prince intended that or not." Searcy drummed his fingers on the desk. "If you have an issue with me, talk to me or talk to Cat. None of this calling us out in public. This isn't a game - I had to learn that the hard way. Right now, the Fifth Royal Guards are untested and taking hits to our morale could shatter us. If that happens, royal displeasure will be the least of your concerns."

"Because you'll make my life hell?" Conner demanded.

"No." Searcy stood up and went for the door. "Because most of us will be dead." He exited the room, leaving Conner alone and feeling about ten centimetres tall.

* * *

Chapter 23

Universal Shipyards, Delavan III

Crucis March, Federated Commonwealth

23 June 3063

There was no prospect of sneaking up on Delavan using false identification - the drive flare of a warship was far too large to be mistaken for anything else. Nor could they allow days for an approach - New Avalon was only a jump away if Katrina chose to despatch warships in response.

That left only one way to do this: quick and dirty. FCS Intrepid had jumped into the outer system a week before and while the jumpdrive recharged, the warship's astronomer had obsessively plotted the movements of the system's planets and moons, refining the data for a transient point arrival.

Peter gripped the arms of his seat. If the navigator's figures were right, they'd arrive only a comparatively short distance from the shipyard. If they were wrong...

Well, he'd probably not be alive to worry about it.

That thought wasn't very reassuring, honestly.

"I think they're aware of the transient point." Vice Admiral Paxson moved his finger to indicate another icon moving towards their destination. "Our data's a few hours old but it looks as if the Fox is moving to cover it - just in case."

Peter rubbed his jaw. "We'll need a moment to re-orientate on arrival," he recalled. "If Fox opens fire, she'll have us cold."

A sister-ship of the Intrepid - namesake of her class in fact - FCS Fox had just as much firepower, speed and protection. The image of FCS MacBeth's inglorious end came irresistibly to mind.

Paxson's face was grim. "We'll have to take it. Unless they launch nuclear weapons, we can survive a few hits. It's unlikely they'll have them loaded though. And they won't be at full battlestations, which could help."

"Alright. No change to the plan." Peter leant forwards. "We need to get the shuttles away as soon as we can. I hate to say this, but even if Intrepid is battered beyond repair, the shuttles have to take priority."

"Understood. I don't like it, your highness, but I agree."

The clock on the bulkhead was counting down and Peter watched it reach five minutes. Four. Three. He hated being little more than a passenger, but he had no choice. He didn't even have his 'Mech with him - not that it would be any use in this battle.

No more minutes, just seconds.

And then those ran out too.

In a flash of visible light and other radiation, FCS Intrepid and the hundreds of people aboard her bypassed the laws of physics and several million kilometres of space. Peter felt the usual nausea that he had always denied experiencing and closed his eyes for a moment as he drove it ruthlessly down.

When he opened them again the tactical holotank was updating.

"We're on target!" the navigator called. "Right where we should be!"

"Find me the Fox!" snapped Paxson. "Engines!"

There was a kick as the main thrusters lit, beginning to build up momentum and providing the bridge with gravity.

Then the deck heaved again as weapons' fire smashed into the hull. Fox had found them - and her fire was just as accurate as Intrepid's navigation had been.

"Aft arc!" someone reported. "Damage to jump sail, collar number three and our aft missile tubes."

"Bring us around to port," ordered Paxson. "Launch all small craft. Your highness?"

Peter tapped the push to talk button on the microphone that was his only way to influence the battle. He saw icons bursting away from the Intrepid as he did so - shuttles and fighters deploying. "FCS Fox, this is Prince Peter Steiner-Davion. Stand down, Admiral Hagen. Don't make this harder than it has to be."

There was a momentary pause - every second one that the Intrepid's crew were using to shake off the shock of arrival and that Fox's crew must be using to reach their duty stations. "Respectfully, your highness, I must ask you to stand down and prepare to be boarded." Vice Admiral Hagen's voice was steady. "This is an exclusion zone and your arrival is hostile in the extreme."

"We both know that that isn't going to happen. Admiral, you're acting in defense of an illegal regime. Katrina has violated the fundamental freedoms of the Federated Suns and the Lyran Commonwealth." He paused. "And we've all but proved she's a matricide."

More seconds passed. Peter could see the weapons officers firming up a lock on the Fox.

"There are a great many people who disagree with you on that," the Admiral replied. "I doubt she'll thank me for blowing her brother out of space, but if you don't cut your engines and recall those small craft then I will do it."

Peter looked away for a moment. So here it was. "Too all those loyal to House Davion and the true spirit of the Federated Commonwealth," he declared. "In the words of my uncle Morgan Hasek-Davion: sic semper tyrannis."

Both warships opened fire as one, no ranging shots now, broadside to broadside. Fox's fighters launched, chasing after the shuttles and their escorts. Peter watched, the command deck shaking around him as the scientific savagery of void warfare battered at the two quarter of a million ton warships with forces that would have obliterated his Mackie with ease.

Fox's fighter squadrons couldn't have overtaken Intrepid's - there was too much of a lead - but the latter were tethered to the protection of the shuttles and that forced them back, engaging the loyalists to keep them away from the most critical part of the operation.

"More fighters launching from the shipyards," someone reported in a shrill voice.

"Whose?" Peter demanded.

"I don't know. Local defence, I think."

Of the twelve fighters from the Fox, only four were left, but the Intrepid's two squadrons had been cut in half. Six fresh fighters could make all the difference.

Peter closed his hands in prayer...

And the new arrivals streaked past the shuttles without firing, a grace they didn't share with the Fox's last surviving fighters.

"Oh thank God." Peter didn't realise until he heard the words that he'd spoken out loud.

"It's said that he -" The ship lurched again, forcing Paxson to a moment's distraction. "That he has a special kindness for fools."

"Inbound missiles!"

Peter watched as three capital missiles left the Fox's flank and dived towards them. One missed as the Intrepid twisted as wildly as such a massive vessel could to avoid them. Another was intercepted by Intrepid's point defense turrets. For a moment, he thought that the third would have the same fate...

Then white light blazed away, blanking half the battlespace in the holotank and sirens howled.

"Roll ship!" snapped Paxson, face white.

Peter stared at the holotank. "What happened?"

"Nuke," a petty officer concluded. "Damage control says... damn, there's a hole in the side you could park a Leopard in."

Clutching the push-to-talk, Peter snarled: "Hagen! Are you insane?"

For a moment, he didn't think he'd get a reply. But: "I don't need a egotistical boy to tell me my duty." Hagen sounded tired, but determined. "You'll never get those ships for your brother."

"She's turning away?" the navigator declared as the Intrepid's roll brought undamaged sensors to bear.

Paxson went even paler. "He's going to fire on the shipyards. Starboard tubes, tell me you have launch solutions."

"Sir, aye sir!"

"Fire!"

Peter nodded grimly. The eight capital missile launchers had been held back from firing so far for one simple reason: like the Fox's, they could carry nuclear warheads. "That may not stop them."

"I'll ram him if I have to," Paxson told him. "If we can catch him," the man added a moment later, which was probably more realistic. Even Peter could see how their courses were diverging. He watched the missile icons crossing the distance.

One missile missed, but Fox's point defense seemed ineffective for some reason. The next missile scarred her armour, blowing away broadside guns and a dropship collar. The last of Intrepid's broadside hit just aft, detonating almost within the warship.

The entire flank of FCS Fox disintegrated and a moment later, her hydrogen tanks blew - spectacularly venting their contents and sending the ravaged warship tumbling.

There was a muted cheer from the bridge crew but Peter didn't join in. Lowering his head he crossed himself and spared a moment to pray for Hagen and for the crew that had followed the Admiral - willingly or not.

"Your highness," Paxson said formally. "Our shuttles have a clean run on the shipyard."

He nodded understanding and turned to watch as the shuttles closed in on the silent hulls of FCS Andrew Davion and FCS Hanse Davion. They didn't pause to dock, troopers in battle armour spilling out to approach the two warships using their jump jets.

Terias Sortek had brought her own 48th Battle Armor Battalion from the Davion Assault Guards and the First NAIS Cadet Armored Infantry as well. Over five hundred suits of battle armour stormed the airlocks as Peter watched from afar.

"See if you can save anyone from the Fox," he murmured, as if to himself.

* * *

Chapter 24

Canaveral City, Galax

Crucis March, Federated Commonwealth

25 June 3063

The sudden summons back to headquarters had caught Jon Davion working at the spaceport as a mixed battalion of the Third Huron Panzers and Fourth Huron Heavy Infantry practised disembarking from one of the new Conquistadors. His own staff had been amongst them so he was wearing field uniform as he entered the conference room next to the Marshal's office.

The room was well-appointed, a horseshoe-shaped table with a holotank in the centre and subtly elevated seats around the edge of the room so aides and other specialists could see the display past the senior officers.

He was one of the last to arrive and took his place among the armour officers on one side of the table, facing the infantry while 'Mechwarriors, pilots and other specialists from combat and staff positions more directly flanked the empty seat reserved for Marshal Adelmana.

"Do you know what's going on?" he asked Donovan Kleif. The colonel commanded the brigade's auxiliary - a mixed artillery and engineering regiment.

"Scuttlebutt says a shuttle landed three hours ago. Who was aboard it I don't -"

Kleif closed his mouth with a snap as the door opened to admit the Marshal. Like the other officers he and Jon stood and came to attention as their commanding officer rounded the table and went to her seat.

"At ease." Ann Adelmana scanned the room for a moment and then nodded in satisfaction. "Ladies and gentlemen, we have a visitor."

Jon looked back to the door, which hadn't closed after the Marshal's entrance, and saw a woman enter on cue.

She was tall, blonde and wore an AFFS-issue jumpsuit and field jacket without rank or service branch markings. The clothing and the ill-disguised unease on her face were so out of character for her that it took him a moment to recognise the face as that of Katherine Steiner-Davion.

"Be seated please." Adelmana sat and her aide, Wendy Karner, sharply unfolded a seat for Katherine to sit in the gap between the two ends of the table.

Other officers also sank into their chairs but Jon glanced to his side at Klief and then across the table at Linda Igler of the Fourth Huron. Both looked uncomfortable - understandably - but he could be sure of them and he thought most of the other officers would back him if it came to.

"Is there a problem, General?"

Jon placed his hand deliberately on the sidearm holster on his belt. "Marshal, may I ask why your guest isn't under arrest?" He took a determined step towards Katherine, Igler and Kleif moving to back him up.

There was a fine line between what he'd just said and treason - a line he doubted the usurper would care about.

To his surprise though, she looked first at his gun, then up at his face before deliberately turning her head back towards the head of the table. "It's a fair question, Marshal Adelmana. Am I under arrest?"

The Marshal's face was already reddening. "Sit down, General. This is a staff briefing, not a bar brawl. Don't make me disarm you."

Katherine raised her hand slightly. "Please, Marshal. General Davion's concerns aren't unfounded. If, once the situation is explained, he still wishes me to be arrested then it will probably be the best course of action."

"What situation is that?" Jon asked, not taking his hand away from his holster.

"She isn't who you think she is." The voice came from behind him and Jon turned his head slightly, seeing a young leftenant in dress uniform. A mechwarrior by the spurs on his boots and the red piping on his uniform pants.

"Permit me to introduce Leftenant Conner Sortek." Adelmana's voice was sharp, but her colour was returning to normal. "Many of you may remember him as Katriel Sortek, the youngest of Marshal Candent Sortek's children."

Jon's service with the Heavy Guards had begun after Field Marshal Ardan Sortek's wife - a distinguished officer in her own right - had retired, but he saw nods of confirmation around the room.

"Why the change of name?" asked Donovan.

"I was tired of being called Katie." Conner shrugged slightly. "I love my parents dearly but they have no business naming children. And it made my kinship to them a little less obvious while I was at NAIS."

"Didn't you only graduate last year?"

Jon shook his head. "If the catching up can wait, please, I'd like an explanation. If this isn't the Archon, then who is it?"

"According to letters Leftenant Sortek brought me," the Marshal told him. "He and our guest came directly from Addicks, leaving in early April in company with Prince Peter Steiner-Davion and the Prince's personal command." She paused. "Both the prince and Ardan Sortek have independently had blood tests carried out, confirming that our guest is also a Steiner-Davion - the prince's full sister."

"That's... hard to believe." But Jon moved his hand away from his sidearm anyway. It was too wild a claim to be made without some confidence. "Where is the prince then? And if you're his sister... You can't be Yvonne."

She shook her head. "Peter is on his way via Delavan. Our last information had Yvonne somewhere in the Draconis March. And as for the Archon... I honestly don't know who she is. I go by Catherine - with a C not a K - but even I'm not sure if I'm Peter's elder sister or some sixth child of his parents that no one knew about."

"You're not sure?"

Catherine smiled weakly. "I was found wandering a desert with a memory like swiss cheese. For all we know, I was grown in a test-tube and brainwashed to believe I'm royalty."

"That's a bit fantastical."

"It's been done before," Conner advised quietly. "My father told me that there was a plot once to replace Hanse Davion with an imposter who'd been brainwashed by his handlers to the point he honestly thought he was the real First Prince."

Jon shuddered. "Really? This sounds like a bad espionage thriller."

Catherine's smile was wry but he thought it genuine. "I blame the Davion side of my ancestry. We seem to have a penchant for drama."

"As the Major General has displayed." Adelmana pointed to Jon's empty chair. "Do I have to order you again?"

"No sir." He returned to his seat. "My apologies."

The Marshal took a deep breath and let it out. "In point of fact, General Davion, you do have the right basic idea. Two days ago soldiers in First Davion Guards uniforms attacked several military installations on New Avalon. Whether they were agents provocateur or genuine doesn't really matter at this point. Marshal Sortek - Bishop Sortek," she clarified, "Has declined to stand down his forces for investigation. In my estimation it's only a matter of time before the Archon orders the First Guards disarmed by force - and she has them outnumbered six to one."

"Six to one?" Catherine's voice was concerned. "I know the Third Robinson Rangers, the Tenth Deneb Light Cavalry and the New Avalon CrMM are on New Avalon."

"They've been reinforced," Wendy Karner informed her. "Two further March Militia Regimental Combat Teams and the Fifth Lyran Guards have either arrived or should do so in the next few days."

Adelmana nodded her head sharply. "If the First Guards aren't the best regimental command team in the AFFC, it's only because they come second to us. The weight of numbers though, gives me little hope for their success."

"Unless, of course, they also receive reinforcements," Catherine said quietly. "I've brought with me three BattleMech battalions of the Fifth Royal Guards. That is... probably not enough to turn the tide. Unless," and she smiled impishly, "General Davion would care to accompany us to arrest the person he thought I was?"

"You've definitely inherited the Davion genes for drama," Jon told her and then looked at Ann Adelmana.

The marshal left him on the hook for a moment and then nodded her head in agreement. "It seems our R&R on Galax is over, ladies and gentlemen. It's time for the Heavy Guards to go home."

* * *

Chapter 25

Nadir Jump Point, Galax

Crucis March, Federated Commonwealth

7 July 3063

There had been hundreds of partings on Galax as the Heavy Guards embarked, leaving dependents behind them with only a limited guard of planetary militia. Daniel hadn't realised the poignancy of this until his shuttle docked with the Bifrost and he found his mother and sisters waiting.

"This is it then?" he asked.

His mother gave him a sad smile and pushed the girls forward, each giving him a hug before they entered the shuttle. They carried bags that couldn't possibly contain all the possessions of their lifetimes.

Daniel waited until they'd entered before he confessed: "I don't know if I shouldn't join them. I'm sorry, I'm not as brave as father."

Karla cupped his cheek with one hand. "Your father has learned to hide his fears. Don't believe that he doesn't have them."

He took a deep breath, searched for words and then exhaled when he couldn't find them.

She drew him into a hug. "There is little I wouldn't give to go with you. Not because I love the prince's cause, but because I hate to see you and your father in danger without being there for you. But someone must care for the girls and if I asked it of you, you'd always blame yourself for anything that happened to us while you weren't there."

"Jumpships are usually safe," he offered.

"Usually. But nuclear weapons are rarely used and the Archon's troops used them at Delavan." Her arms tightened around him. "Be brave, my son. But also, be wary."

"I'll be careful."

She made a sound that was half-laugh and half-sob. "We are past that point, I think."

His mother released him and after one last look at him she entered the shuttle and closed the airlock. Daniel waited and watched as the small craft detached from the Bifrost and as its drive kicked it away on the trip to the jump point's recharge station. The station's ability to recharge jumpships had been disabled by an as yet unidentified saboteur after the Heavy Guards declared themselves against Katrina, but it still served a purpose in other support roles. His mother would refuel the shuttle there before taking the girls with her to Galax itself.

Forcing himself not to watch the shuttle diminish further, Daniel turned away from the viewport and caught hold of the rail along the axial passage, pulling himself through the zero gravity with instinctive ease.

Clarent was gone now, loaded with tanks of the Heavy Guards, but Glowworm had docked once more - carrying a battalion of the Fifth Royal Guards and thousands of tons of consumables for them. The other two collars now held Overlord-class dropships commandeered from repair docks on Galax to carry the other Royal Guards battalions.

Even with the addition of the two massive cruisers, each carrying five dropships, it had been necessary to commandeer four civilian jumpships to ferry the Heavy Guards. The owners had been paid as much in promises as in cash, with an unspoken threat to take the jumpships and man them with military crews if they resisted. If the jumpships were lost and if Prince Peter won anyway, they'd be indemnified. If the latter wasn't true, Daniel doubted that Katrina Steiner-Davion would honour her brother's promises.

Just short of the habitation decks, Daniel saw someone drifting in mid-corridor. It wasn't so wide that they couldn't have reached out and pushed themselves to the rail but they were making no effort to do so.

Brow furrowed he pulled himself closer and recognised the blonde hair pinned up behind her head. Catherine's eyes were closed and her breath was even.

"Seriously?"

She jerked at the sound of his voice, eyes blinking open. "Wha... Oh, Daniel?"

"Were you asleep?" he asked bluntly.

"I just closed my eyes for a moment." She paused. "I think." Pulling back her sleeve she consulted her watch and flushed. "Uh... twenty minutes ago, I think."

He shook his head and politely offered his hand to help her reach the rail. "Shouldn't you be adjusting to New Avalon's clock? It's the middle of the night in Avalon City."

"We were trying to trace the fault with Oh-Six-Nine's comm suite," Catherine said sheepishly. "It took longer than I thought it would."

Daniel shook his head. "Well you should probably get some sleep. Did you find the fault in the end?"

She nodded and Daniel pulled out his noteputer and updated his list of problems with the Fifth Guards' 'Mechs. The list had shrunk more than he'd thought possible, although it was still longer than he liked. At least now most of the worst cases were in fully equipped 'Mech bays and they had some support from technical crews on loan from the Heavy Guards.

He looked up and saw Catherine yawning.

"I said go to bed," he advised, a grin crossing his face as he did so. He couldn't help it. "You can't work properly if you're exhausted. I'll tell your brother that you're to sleep in as well."

"Tyrant," she muttered with a certain fondness of her own. She was probably older than Daniel but sometimes she behaved far too much like his sisters.

Plugging his noteputer into the wall, Daniel typed a quick message to the prince as he watched her leave and then a second, to his father. Turning he headed back towards the docking collars. Mackie Oh-Three-Seven still had that problem with the left knee actuator sticking, with a bit of luck he could get that sorted out before they jumped.


	5. New Avalon

Part Five - New Avalon

_Starting right now I'll be strong_

_I'll play my fight song_

_And I don't really care if nobody else believes_

_'Cause I've still got a lot of fight left in me_

* * *

Chapter 26

Orbital Space, New Avalon

Crucis March, Federated Commonwealth

14 July 3063

One of the major problems with securing New Avalon was that with three moons, it had several transitory jump points to police and guarding them all wasn't feasible.

FCS Andrew Davion had been the first to jump, carrying three large assault ships and two of the well-armed Conquistador transports. The pair of picketing aerospace fighters did their duty, which mostly amounted to screaming for help and trying to escape - there was simply no way that the two Sparrowhawks could have done more than that - and one of them was too slow anyway, losing a wing to a barrage of LRMs from the Andrew Davion's secondary turrets.

Through all of this Jon Davion was nothing more than a spectator. As a courtesy he'd been offered place on the command deck of the FCS John Gordon, but he'd declined and instead was watching from the amidship command centre, where there were all the communications and computer systems needed to run a full task force.

"How long do you think we have?" Donovan Kleif asked. "Before the loyalists respond."

Jon simply shook his head. "We'll find out soon enough."

On the display, FCS Intrepid arrived - the damaged corvette was carrying three more assault dropships, aged Avenger-class ships. If the jump point had been heavily contested then it made sense to frontload such craft but right now Jon would have preferred to see some of the heavy transports with his tanks aboard them.

His eye went to the bulkhead where a timer was ticking away the minutes until the jump point became unusable. "I'm more concerned with getting fully clear of the point. We really can't afford a collision."

Intrepid began to thrust quickly - there was no practical way to communicate the situation back to Galax, the ships just had to clear the jump point before the next transit. If they didn't and the jump fields intersected... both ships would be crippled or destroyed, with the same for the troops aboard them.

To Jon's relief though, it all seemed to go smoothly. Intrepid was followed by FCS Hanse Davion - the less completed of the two Avalon-class ships. Both had been rushed from Kathil after the loss of their sister-ship the Robert Davion early in the fighting over the critical industrial world, something that had done little to help in their completion schedules. The litany of issues both ships faced had been raised more than once at the frantic staff meetings as the invasion was prepared.

With the three warships clear, the jumpships came through at broader intervals, each carrying a single tug that could haul them clear of the jump point. Peter Steiner-Davion had commandeered the still relatively rare tugs from Delavan over howling protests from the owners.

"It's going too well," Klief muttered. "Something has to go -"

"Hostile warships!" one of the ratings declared. "Two cruisers, one corvette!"

"You just had to say it, Donovan." Jon tightened the security harness on his seat as sirens began to blare, warning that the dropship was about to manoeuvre.

The last jumpship arrived, detaching the Royal Guards' dropships and the flotilla broke apart into constituent parts - transports rushing to the surface, assault ships and warships moving to intercept Katrina's loyalists, who had escorts of their own.

Given its armament, the John Gordon took position on the outer edge of the formation of transports. Anything that got past the main space combatants would reach them first.

"Do we have confirmation of a landing zone?" Jon asked with forced calm, trying to focus on something other than the chances of dying here, helpless to control his fate.

"Last data has the First Guards somewhere in the Grand Avalon mountains. We're trying to establish contact."

Bringing up a map, Jon confirmed his understanding of the geography of New Avalon. He hardly thought he'd be mistaken but foolish errors were part and parcel of the stress of combat.

The mountain range stretched east-to-west across much of New Avalon's largest continent with Avalon City at the easternmost point and the Royal Court located on the sides and peak of Mount Davion, the first of the mountains overlooking the city. The confined valleys and passes would slow the Guards' advanced but they'd also make it hard to track them and even harder to bring the more numerous defenders of the city to bear against them.

On the other hand, landing reinforcements in the mountains would be a miserable business...

"Transmission from the Marshal!"

Jon nodded. "Put her through."

Ann Adelmana was in a similar seat to Jon, aboard one of the other Conquistadors, the FCS Michael Barlow. "Jon, we've established contact with the First Guards. The situation has changed - they're out of the mountains and south of Avalon City."

He checked the map. The southern approaches to the capital were relatively open with scattered commuter towns, the campuses of Albion military academy and the New Avalon Institute of Science and the Peace Park occupying the Camelot region. "That should make landing easier."

"Yes. I'm copying you the data, but the good news is that the March Militia forces are still trying to catch up. I'm -"

"Sir, the Intrepid is gone!"

Jon jerked his head towards the main display screen. Gone was perhaps too strong a word - the corvette was still visible on the screen but the mass of red damage codes around it couldn't be a good sign and it was no longer in formation with the two cruisers. Escape pods and lifeboats began to escape the ship, signalling the crew's own assessment of their fate if the Fox-class ship continued to fight.

Adelmana's face grew tighter. "I've... advised the Prince to take his Royal Guards down to join Bishop's forces directly. You're to take the Huron Panzers, the Seventh and Fourteenth Lexington and everything boarded with them to land west of Sortek's position and keep advance elements of the March Militias from catching up. I'll land the rest of the Regimental Combat team south-east of Sortek and pincer the loyalist troops in his path."

"Understood, sir." Jon already had a good idea what would be grouped with his three principle combat formations and it would make for a decent combined arms force, even detaching two-thirds of Klief's support command to support the remainder of the infantry brigade and BattleMechs.

The marshal cut the channel without further comment and Jon set his staff to the specifics, keeping one eye on the space situation as he hastily reviewed the information on the First Guards' situation.

Thus he was among the first to see a change of status on one of the Loyalist cruisers. "What's that... the Lucien doing?" he demanded, picking the name of the ship from the data codes.

One of the technicians checked the data. "Accelerating," she reported, curiously. "She's taken a pounding though, and she's exposing herself without the rest of the enemy warships backing her up."

An older officer turned from plotting the landing zone and slashed a line along FCS Lucien Davion's course. "Trying to break through," he decided. "It's a risk but they only have thirty more minutes before we hit the atmosphere. If she can make it past, the Lucien will rip us apart."

"Let's hope she can't." Jon paused and then looked around. "Get back to work," he reminded them, seeing eyes focused on the main holotank rather than duty stations. "We've still got ships of our own out there to handle her."

Unfortunately, the Hanse Davion and Andrew Davion seemed to be more focused on pounding their other sister ship, FCS Alexander Davion to scrap and it was dropships and fighters that turned to intercept the Lucien Davion.

Despite his own orders, Jon couldn't look away as the massive ship continued to accelerate at three gravities. The John Gordon began to weave, setting some of his staff to retching into sick bags as the dropship tried to make itself a difficult target.

Based on some logic on readily admitted he didn't have the training to understand, the Lucien Davion began to turn as it approached the transports. Then explosions wracked its aft section - small compared to the size of the ship but something must have affected it for the ship stopped turning.

"Steering controls, maybe some engine damage?" the naval officer suggested hopefully. "Just a few minutes to the atmosphere and they're going to overshoot us unless they slow down. We're still in extreme range though and..."

Damage codes sprang to life suddenly around one of the transports. Jon looked closer and saw it was the Michael Barlow. "Get me a status report on the flagship!" he ordered sharply.

The big aerodyne was still flying, but more red data lines sprang up.

"Major hits," the technician reported. "Probably long range fire from the Lucien's naval gauss rifles."

"Can you raise them?"

"Trying, sir."

Jon forced himself to sit back and nod approvingly. "Keep me informed," he ordered.

The first dropships were already beginning to glow as they hit the upper atmosphere before the Barlow's communications were restored.

"Sir." The technician's voice was unstead. "Barlow is aborting the landing. They've taken massive damage to the ventral mid-section. The troop bays took the brunt of it but they can't land without substantial repairs.

"Casualties?" Jon demanded.

She hesitated. "They're not sure. High to total, one shot went right through and vented the control centre. Marshal Adelmana isn't accounted for."

Jon closed his eyes for a moment in prayer. Then he opened them. "We continue as planned. Inform General Tuttle that I'm taking command and that he's to carry on the south-eastern landings, coordinating directly with Marshal Sortek and Prince Peter until we regroup."

* * *

Chapter 27

Camelot, New Avalon

Crucis March, Federated Commonwealth

15 July 3063

Conner's first thought when he counted twelve 'Mechs moving towards the flank of the First Davion Guards was that he'd run into a fresh company. It wasn't until he saw a tan-coloured Battle Hawk amid the predominantly red and black 'Mechs that he realised this must be a scratch force mixing Robinson Rangers and Deneb Light Cavalry.

Survivors then, more dangerous in some ways and less in others.

A low-slung shape darting behind the enemy 'Mechs reminded him that the 'Mechs weren't the only dangers on the battlefield. LRMs arced from the Fulcrum hovertank and smashed against the chest and right arm of his Mackie, marking the blue and gold paintwork.

"This is Crucis Actual," he ordered. "Hit them hard."

His company had unusual mass and uniformity - very few units could concentrate a full company of assault 'Mechs much less one entirely made up entirely of one model. They were also a design that none of the Deneb and Ranger Mechwarriors would ever have encountered before.

His first target was a Cestus, one of the largest enemy 'Mechs present. Conner brought his crosshairs down on it, trying to stabilise the shot. For a moment he thought he had the idea shot, right into the gauss rifle below and to the right of the cockpit but at the last moment something shifted under the foot of his Mackie and the shots hit too high - the laser and PPC ripping into the armour of the smaller 'Mech's right arm while the autocannon fire went wild.

The Gauss Rifle spat a shot back at him, the slug cracking the armour on the Mackie's chest right below the red and white pschent that marked the regiment's identity. Backing up and bracing, the Cestus raised both arms and slashed systematically with one laser after another.

Armour was peeling away and Conner twisted to prevent a penetration, bringing the autocannon back down and tracking shots from it back onto target. Several of them dug into the battered shoulder of the Cestus and the entire right arm gave way, much more easily than it should have.

He had no chance to enjoy that minor triumph though as a salvo of missiles corkscrewed into Conner's Mackie, peppering the 'Mech with shrapnel and doing equal damage to the farm fence he was straddling.

Turning he identified the source, a forty-ton Chimera just as it rose into the air on its jump jets, firing down onto him as it bounded aside from his return fire.

The light 'Mech didn't get away entirely as explosions wreathed its ungainly looking legs. Conner traced the source of the fire to a Davion Guards Blackjack OmniMech tracking the Chimera with a pair of autocannon.

"Deal with the Cestus," a gruff voice demanded, the Dalban Micronics set wired into the place of the original electronics automatically highlighting the source as a laser transmission from the Blackjack's commsuite. "Where did you even get those museum pieces?"

Another gauss rifle shot, this one tearing into the armour plating of his 'Mech highlighted the need to finish the Cestus. Conner charged it, firing everything he had and was satisfied to see armour plating fall away - red-black and bare metal patches crumbling. The Ranger mechwarrior tried to sidestep but Conner moved aside to match him and fired his PPC again just before they got too close for the bean to focus properly. Blowing through the right side, protection, this shot did what he'd hoped - there was a flash of light as the capacitors for the Gauss Rifle blew, ripping apart the engine shielding on that side of the 'Mech.

The cockpit burst open as the mechwarrior ejected and the heavy 'Mech fell.

Turning to check his company, Conner saw one of the Mackies staggering as an Enforcer III outflanked it, punishing the rear armour with its high speed autocannon. He braced, checked his heat and then fired everything.

Only the laser hit but it was enough to penetrate just above the Enforcer III's left hip and wreck the laser mounted there. Not much but it drove the medium 'Mech to back up and gave the Mackie a needed chance to stop trying to outturn it.

"Are they running?" someone asked.

"Just switching it up, look out!" the Blackjack driver shouted in warning as a line of hovertanks swept easily past the reforming 'Mechs, sensor locks dissolving as electronic countermeasures played havoc on the generally reliable systems Holstein had fitted to the Mackies in place of long-removed or obsolete equipment.

Conner stepped forwards to cover the damaged rear of his Mechwarrior and let fly at one of the Pegasus hovertanks, tearing a strip out of one flank with the extended range laser, although his PPC shot just blew a few square metres of farmland apart.

Beside him the Blackjack was more successful, the sub-munitions of his autocannon ripping apart the skirts of one of the tanks. The Pegasus slewed to the side until one edge hit the dirt and then flipped, landing upside down.

The return fire from the line of tanks was mostly short-ranged missiles and Conner saw them batter at damaged 'Mechs, picking out the most vulnerable with practised ease.

He expected damage, he didn't expect screams as four of his Mechs emerged from the salvos ablaze with fire. One fell immediately, smoke and flames rising from a ruptured cockpit. The others glowed ferociously on infrared scanners, overheating and quite unable to risk firing their weapons.

"Infernos!"

And now the enemy 'Mechs, having taken the opportunity to cool down, pressed again. Only six left but a column of mixed tanks were grinding along behind them, dirt spraying up from their tracks.

"Baker Actual to Crucis Actual!" The voice of Michael Searcy cut across the command net. "Wheel your left flank back - we're coming in on them."

"Acknowledged," he snapped back - there was no time to argue. "Crucis Company, refuse the flank!"

The three burning Mackies were moving sluggishly but they complied under covering fire from Conner and the other five Mackies as they focused their fire on a Firestarter and Javelin leading the renewed loyalist attack.

Conner saw the Javelin go down as one leg snapped but the tan-painted Firestarter ducked and weaved, armour pockmarked with damage but never quite enough. A Bushwacker stalked in behind them and Conner highlighted it. "Drop the 'wacker!" he ordered - the Firestarter was just too nimble - and opened fire, tracing autocannon shots along the left arm's long barrelled missile launcher and blasting away armour plates between the cockpit and the left shoulder assembly with the PPC.

A torrent of autocannon fire and LRMs hammered Hancock's Mackie down, the young mechwarrior - one of Conner's classmates - losing control and toppling his 'Mech backwards into the dirt as the fire ripped away armour plating across its front. Clearly the Guards didn't have a monopoly on concentrating fire.

For a moment Conner thought Hancock would be able to right the Mackie but two missiles arched down out of the sky and blew through the fallen 'Mech's sides with devastating ease, ammunition stores erupting from the hole on the right side and flipping the 'Mech over as safety mechanisms tried to divert the secondary explosions out the back, unaware that there was a solid surface behind it.

"Arrow IV battery," the Blackjack pilot said grimly, still blazing away at the remaining Pegasus hover tanks. "These little devils are spotting for them."

They weren't just spotting, a handful of SRMs slapped napalm across the side of Conner's Mech and he cut the Mackie's large laser out of the firing circuit as temperature soared inside his cockpit.

A moment later, the Pegasus responsible blew apart and fresh Mackies charged into the fray, catching the loyalists in their flank as they tried to wrap around Crucis Company.

On the fresh blue and gold paint jobs, Conner saw the markings of Baker Company and understood what Searcy had been doing. He turned his sights back on the Bushwacker and fired again, his shots tearing through the armour on one leg and severing a myomer bundle. A moment later, a Crucis Company Mackie, covered from shoulder to fire in napalm, reached the bird-legged Mech and drove a kick into the damaged leg, snapping it like a rotten twig and toppling the Bushwacker to the ground.

"Still think we're antiques?" Conner asked as he looked for a fresh target.

"Maybe a little old-fashioned," the Davion Guard replied as he moved his Blackjack to stand next to Conner's Mackie. "But we respect that in the First Guards."

* * *

Chapter 28

Avalon City, New Avalon

Crucis March, Federated Commonwealth

16 July 3063

Peter recognised the streets they were fighting over now as part of the small town on the southern side of Peace Park. He'd walked through them back when he was a cadet, shopping or just hanging out with classmates - inside a subtle perimeter of security, admittedly.

Now ground cars and buses were replaced by 'Mechs and armored fighting vehicles. Whoever was running the defense - reports were divided over whether it was Jackson Davion or Simon Gallagher, the Prince's Champion - had replaced the battered DLC and Rangers with fresh troops from the Lyran Guards.

Similarly worn down, Bishop had agreed to let Peter's Royal Guards take point - they had the weight and despite losses yesterday, they hadn't had to consolidate their units yet. In fact, most companies had more than replaced their casualties as volunteers who'd been keeping their heads down due to the heavy loyalist presence felt free to at last bring their 'Mechs to join the fight.

For security reasons, most were being kept away from the Steiner-Davions but Peter had more than a company added to his battalion, drawn from former members of Team Banzai that had been teaching at NAIS. Doctor John Parker had taken the lead in bringing the reinforcements together and now his Warhammer - a Clan variant that had been brought to NAIS from the battlefields of Operation Bulldog - was rounding out the command lance.

As the lance pushed up the street, a Vedette moved out of cover, followed by a Hetzer wheeled assault gun. Catherine showed the presence of mind to prioritise the latter and her autocannon ripped one of the wheels off before the crew could turn it enough to bring their heavy gun to bear.

Peter pushed his Mackie forward into a run and delivered a kick to the side of the Vedette, rocking it up on one track for a moment but not quite breaching the internal compartment. The turret turned and it unloaded the autocannon into the calf of his 'Mech.

A moment later, Parker's pulse lasers ripped through the damaged flank of the medium tank. For a wonder, neither ammunition nor fuel was set off but hatches sprang open and the crew bolted from their vehicle in reasonable concern that such an explosion might be imminent. Flinging up their hands, they eyed the towering 'Mechs around them with obvious concern.

"Drop your weapons and walk south with your hands behind your head," Peter ordered on his loudspeaker. He didn't have time to take prisoners and he wasn't going to just massacre them. There was an infantry company behind him that could take the crew into custody.

The Hetzer tried to back up on its three remaining wheels, but the steering was wrecked and it rear-ended into a bakery. Peter aimed down onto the upper hull and carved carved a shot through the already damaged armour with his laser. This time the ammunition did go up, blasting smoke and parts of the bakery across the street.

The fourth member of the lance, Greg Coulthard, moved up to take point for the next block. The dug in Lyran Guards weren't fighting for every block but there were enough ambushes that the advance had to be cautious.

"I think I see -"

What Coulthard saw was cut off as a pair of PPC bolts smashed squarely into his Mackie. The 'Mech staggered and he turned it to try to protect the flank. Then a gauss rifle shot crashed against one knee and the Mackie fell.

"Fresh contact!" Peter saw units moving out of buildings further down the street, a white-painted Demon battle tank in the lead.

"Blakists!" Cat screeched. She opened up on the first 'Mech to enter view, one shaped not entirely unlike their Mackies - the characteristic 'walking ovoid' shape of many Star League designs.

Unlike their mechs this one had fists though and it was moving fast. Peter's tracking system hesitated before identifying it as a SPT-NF Spartan. He didn't need sensors to recognise that behind it was a Black Knight of some kind, but the Demon was his first priority - he and Parker combined fire on the tank with its turret mounted gauss rifle.

The thick frontal armour vaporised under the impact of the Warhammer's clantech PPCs and Peter's shots stitched holes across the turret and took out one wheel - although the six-wheeled tank was far less impaired than the Hetzer had been and it continued to roll forwards, firing its forward lasers and SRMs into Coulthard's 'Mech.

"Cat, take out the tank!" The submunitions of her LB 10-X were ideal for anti-vehicle work - she should be prioritising it over the Spartan.

His sister jerked her Mackie around, the chest lasers scarring the roadway before they intersected with the Demon, barely scratching at it. Then she triggered the PPC, the shot ripping through the damaged frontal plate.

An instant later the tank's turret blew off.

Peter flicked his sensors to infrared for a second. Unsurprisingly, his sister's Mackie was overheating. "Back up and cool your 'Mech!" he ordered her.

"We should all back up," Parker warned. He fired his PPCs again, aiming low to the ground rather than at the approaching 'Mechs. "We have inbound Battle Armour."

Peter shivered. He'd seen footage of Mechs being swarmed by Clan Elementals, and if that happened to him it would be entirely too soon. "Coulthard, can you get up?"

The Mackie struggled and rolled. To Peter's dismay, the move briefly brought two suits of Standard Battle Armour back into view, along with the damage they were doing to the Mackie. The pair slipped behind the cover of the fallen 'Mech before he could pick them.

"I don't think so, sir," the mechwarrior replied, voice unstead. "I... damn, that was my shoulder actuator. Get out of here."

"Punch out, we'll pick you up!"

Parker pushed his Warhammer in front of Peter's Mackie. "Negative, sir, we can't risk you."

"I'm not leaving a man behind!"

"Peter, we're not the only ones being hit." Cat's voice was surprisingly steady. "Listen to the battalion net."

He paused and let himself listen to the background chatter he'd been tuning out as he dealt with the immediate situation.

Almost every channel spoke of white-painted 'Mechs, tanks and battle armour deploying. And in most cases, the Royal Guards were struggling.

"Greg, get out of there!" he demanded. "Don't get yourself killed!"

The Black Knight stepped forwards as the Spartan paused a moment to fire its pulse lasers and streak SRMs into Cat's Mackie. With a grim deliberation, the seventy-five ton command 'Mech planted one foot squarely on the Mackie's cockpit.

"You son of a -"

"Gendo Blake's Beard!" Cat yelled, causing ringing in Peter's ears. She cut loose with PPC and autocannon, eradicating the ComStar badge on the Black Knight's chest.

Gendo? Peter wondered to himself. "Back off, Cat." He forced himself to take the same move. "This is Alpha Actual to all Royal Guards," he forced himself to transmit. "Pull back and regroup. I repeat, pull back."

The ComGuards tried to follow them, but once they reached the intersection, the rest of the company was already consolidating there. The Spartan halted sharply and retreated into the smoking urban sprawl of Avalon City, the slower Black Knight - to Peter's great satisfaction - didn't quite manage it as a dozen PPCs tore through its armour, de-legging it and leaving coolant streaming from at least three holes through its chest.

A second volley finished the 'Mech off.

Switching to the command channel, Peter updated Sortek's headquarters in terse terms. It only took a few moments for Bishop Sortek to get onto the channel.

"Your highness, we've confirmed the 299th ComGuards Division has joined the city's defense. Can you break through?"

Peter looked at his company. Down two mechs, everyone with armour damage - stage four or five mostly. Granted, that was still fourteen 'Mechs due to Team Banzai, but... Once they got out of the town, Peace Park was open ground - a kill zone if the defenders deployed correctly, which seemed likely. "If we re-arm, maybe. How long do we have before the Militia forces catch up?"

"No time," the Marshal said flatly. "Jon bought us a day, but the New Avalon CrMM expended most of a brigade breaking through his flank. He had pull back or be cut off so our rear-guard is almost on Albion's campus right now."

"Wheel east?" He hated to say it, since it would mean ripping through even more of Avalon city, but..."

"I lost half a battalion trying," Sortek admitted heavily. "The Remagen CrMM have linked up and Marlette are backing the other two up. And the mountains are fortified from here - we'd be walking practically over Fox's Den - there are a dozen choke points we'd have to get through."

"You're saying we're encircled."

Sortek paused. "Yes. I'm consolidating the Heavy Guards to rearm. Can you hold your current positions until they can do that."

"Yes." Peter's reply was immediate. The ComGuards were probably far more seasoned - veterans of Tukkayid and with Star League equipment for the most part - but they didn't seem to have the mass to push the Fifth Royal Guards back unless Kopper's Fifth Lyran Guards rallied to join them. That would take hours after the pounding they'd taken so far today.

"Good." The field marshal lowered his voice subconsciously. "We still have enough air cover to get a couple of dropships out. Once the Heavy Guards can replace you on the frontlines, I want you and your sister back on the Hanse Davion."

Peter paused. "Respectfully, sir, you don't have a Galen Cox here to coldcock me and throw me aboard."

"...I'm not too old to do that myself, your highness. We're in a very bad position."

"We're still alive, and they're taking a battering as well. Mount Davion is literally in sight, sir. One more push..."

Sortek hesitated. "One more. And I want your sister back at headquarters, not out with you. We can't let you both fall into loyalist hands if the worst happens."

Peter glanced aside at the scarred shape of Cat's Mackie. "Agreed."

"I'll let you tell her then," Bishop Sortek informed him and cut the channel.

"Alpha Actual to all Royal Guards. Take defensive positions," he ordered on the regimental channel. "The Heavy Guards are re-arming and then we'll try this again."

After getting confirmations from Conner Sortek, Michael Searcy and his battalion commanders, Peter switched to a private channel to his sister's 'Mech. "Cat, we have to talk."

* * *

Chapter 29

New Avalon Institute of Science, New Avalon

Crucis March, Federated Commonwealth

19 July 3063

It had been years since his cadet days but falling asleep exhausted in a student dorm still felt very familiar to Peter.

So did being dragged awake long before he felt he was fully rested.

"They're attacking again?" he asked, rubbing his eyes as he shook off the hand on his shoulder and pushed the blanket aside. He'd taken off his boots but otherwise he was still in sweat-stained mechwarrior shorts and an almost equally sweaty jumpsuit. He'd intended to use the small shower but the siren call of sleep had dragged him to the bunk before he made it that far.

"Not yet." Daniel Holstein didn't try to pretend it wasn't just a matter of time though. What was left of the Third Robinson Rangers had spearheaded a counterattack the previous evening and ground themselves almost to the point of destruction pushing the Fifth Royals and the Heavy Guards back out of the Avalon City limits, but they'd had enough back-up to achieve their goal.

Peter sat up and rubbed his jaw. His Mackie had limped back into the NAIS hangars missing one arm and with his autocannon hanging by little more than myomer and a frozen shoulder joint. The latter could be fixed but the former would need a replacement and there wasn't really time to fabricate one. Possibly one could be salvaged from a more damaged Mackie. He twisted and threw his legs off the side, groping around for his boots. "So?"

"Good news." The young engineer looked as if there was a great weight off his shoulders. "We have reinforcements!"

"That's great," he said, trying to muster enthusiasm. "More defectors?" Lucy Davion had crossed the lines under cover of the earlier attack, bringing half a battalion of disaffected Remagen tanks with her.

"No, in orbit."

Peter found his boots by kicking them over. Grabbing them he shoved his feet into them. "Orbit? Now that is good news! Who?"

"The Assault Guards and the First NAIS Cadre."

Closing the boots clasps, Peter dashed for the door. The cold morning air prickled his skin as he and Daniel ran across the divide between the dorm and the classroom block being used as the command centre for the Heavy Guards.

Jon Davion and Bishop Sortek were there already - or more probably still. Both clutched mugs of coffee in their free hands. "Why isn't the Lucien Davion moving to intercept?" the former was asking as Peter entered.

"Your guess is as good as mine," Sortek told him. "Maybe it took more damage than we thought - the commander may not be confident of winning in a second round against the Hanse Davion."

"If it can't fight our warship then it may as well not be there." Jon looked up and saw Peter. "Your highness, Bishop's cousin has arrived late to the party."

"Not too late, I think." Peter joined them. "I thought he'd be pinned down holding the Addicks supply base down for other operations. I guess I was wrong."

Bishop shook his head. "We've only got fragmentary communications so far - Katrina's forces are using satellites under their control to jam transmissions wherever they can - but he must have left only a few weeks after you did, and taken a more direct route."

"I'm not complaining." Peter looked at the map laid out of their situation on the ground. He didn't see anything about the situation up in orbit. "Are any other orbital assets moving to block them? And when are they expected?"

"Not yet, that we can tell. And late today - they had to use a transient point further out than the one you did." The Field Marshal lifted his coffee and took a deep gulp. "Which means the Archon has most of a day to..."

"Sir, our pickets are reporting incoming metal - lots of it!"

Peter nodded and rubbed his eyes. "Yeah, means she's got to try to crush us before the Crushers get here. I'll -" Damn, his 'Mech... "Daniel is my 'Mech...?"

The younger Holstein shook his head. "We yanked both shoulders for repair - you'd be going into battle with just one laser. The armour isn't even patched yet."

"Damn." He thought a moment. "What about Cat's?" She'd sat out yesterday's attack - under protest - so her Mackie shouldn't have been damaged.

As if on cue, his sister's voice came over one of the command channels. "Hindquarters... sorry, headquarters. This is Alpha-Four, Fifth Royals. I've got a lance together from the repair bays and we're ready to move out."

"I guess she's showing initiative," Jon noted drily. "Do you want to rein her in, Peter?"

He stared at his cousin and started to agree, then paused. Was this a trap? Was it a question of trust...?

After a moment, he shook his head. "No, tell her... actually, I'll do it."

Crossing to the comms section he took a microphone and switched to the proper channel. "Baker Actual, this is Alpha Actual. You have first battalion right now. Alpha Four is bringing every 'Mech she can scrape together to join you."

"Confirmed, Alpha Actual." Searcy sounded obscenely well rested. "We'll keep an eye on her for you."

"Try to keep it professional," Peter said, what he meant as being half a joke coming out as more of a snarl.

* * *

Chapter 30

Camelot Region, New Avalon

Crucis March, Federated Commonwealth

19 July 3063

The New Avalon Institute of Science was Hanse Davion's legacy to the future, more directly tied to him than even the Federated Commonwealth (which was a joint effort). There was something unfortunately symbolic in the fact that parts of it were on fire.

The Marlette CrMM were streaming through the campus, the last loyalist reserve that Searcy was aware of... but they were fresh and that was enough.

Even under this pressure, the Guards didn't break... but they were giving ground. The Davion Guards held together out of pride, the Banzai veterans perhaps for the same or perhaps for some abstruse calculation of military science as far above Searcy's head as the other references that they exchanged between themselves.

And the Fifth Royal Guards clung together and fought on through sheer stubbornness that they wouldn't shame themselves or their prince by being the first to break.

We're a stupid breed, soldiers, Searcy thought to himself as he backed up - the remaining half of Baker Company maintaining formation on him - and fired into a Javelin that was overly ambitious in trying to get close enough to deliver its SRMs.

His autocannon had no more cluster ammunition but standard shells were more than enough to rip through the armour plating on the Javelin's left arm as the pilot threw it up to shield his chest. The arm was half-severed and a moment later, Searcy's ER PPC lashed out and sliced into the armour just above the limb, vaporising armour and blotting out two missile tubes.

Aiming carefully he followed up with his lasers one at at time. The first shot missed the wound, although it finished off the left arm, fusing the shoulder actuator solid. The second medium lasers carved a line right across the damage caused by the PPC.

The Javelin's head disintegrated, mechwarrior rocketing skywards in his ejection seat. A fraction of a second later the torso of the light 'Mech did the same as two tons of short-range missile warheads and propellant vented their fury from inside it.

One 'Mech down but more were coming - supported by tanks and infantry. The Dalban sensor suite of Searcy's Mackie was picking up APCs moving through the campus, sweeping it for allied hold-outs.

You're just a little too late, he thought, grateful that the 'Mech bays had been evacuated in time. More than a dozen 'Mechs had been left behind, but they'd take days to restore to service and the technical staff had made it out with their critical tooling.

A volley of LRMs arched out from behind one of the College of Chemistry buildings. too many for a single launcher - the CrMM must have a lance of LRM carriers back there.

Searcy spotted a Scarabus painting the building with it's TAG and guessed that it was transmitting targeting data back to the support elements in Albion's campus. He angled his Mackie to screen the light 'Mech from incoming fire, his gyro struggling for an instant as a Warhammer pinpointed him with both PPCs. That was going to cost him.

It was worth it though. The second volley of LRMs to rise up from behind the laboratories was replied to by at least a dozen artillery shells. The explosions were visible around - and to a lesser extent through - the structure.

There were no more LRMs from the position. It was unlikely that any of the thin-skinned LRM Carriers had survived, but if they did then they must be fleeing for their lives.

Abstractly, Searcy hoped that not too much damage had been done. More practically, he focused on the Warhammer and returned fire. It was out of reach for his medium lasers, but the ER PPC shot smashed along the length of one of the long Donal PPCs, the electromagnetic flux conveniently also dragging the beam of the Warhammer's second shot awry.

His autocannon shells hammered against the Warhammer's chest and it paused then ducked aside, waiting for reinforcements.

Seeing the Scarabus had fallen back, Searcy resumed the retreat. The tracked carriers hauling the last damaged tanks and 'Mechs that had been pulled out before the attack arrived were reaching the edge of Albion. It was more than time for his rear-guard to do the same.

"Crucis Actual, I need a rear-line," he instructed. Sortek's company had been in worst shape when they began the retreat, but after the last fifteen minutes that situation had been reversed - it wouldn't be long before Royal 'Mechs started to fall. Searcy's armour was paper-thin in places and he was one of the best off in Baker. Alpha's handful of survivors were split between them.

"Roger." Conner Sortek sounded steady. "Alpha Four, hold where you are. You're the left flank, I have the right. The rest of you spread out between us."

Searcy waited, stepping backwards three times to give them time. A flicker of white in the NAIS buildings warned him the brief lull was about to end. "Baker company, about turn!" he snapped. "Reform behind Crucis Company!"

Matching action to word, he snapped the Mackie around crisply and forced every ounce of speed the lumbering beast had out of it.

Surprised, the first shots of a resumed ComGuards attack splashed the ground behind the retreating 'Mechs.

"Command, we're pulling back," Searcy reported as he reached Sortek's position and dug in one of the Mackie's heels to turn just as sharply. He was the first to reach the line and counted off the 'Mechs arriving. One, two, four... the fifth of his companions fell just short as a Grim Reaper ripped open its rear with its large lasers and then exploited the breach with its LRM launcher.

Heat bloomed from the fallen Mackie and the pilot punched out, the angle of the cockpit hurling him up and over the new defensive line.

"We're under heavy pressure." Searcy opened fire on the Grim Reaper. His PPC burned through one of the armor skirts over its hips and his autocannon chewed up over the missile launcher in the right chest. A moment later, cluster rounds blew into the rents, half-spinning the 'Mech around and he saw the shot came from Catherine Steiner-Davion's Mackie - she must have been hoarding the rounds. "Can you give us supporting fire?"

"We can do better than that." There was triumph in the voice of the operations officer. "Just look up."

Searcy spared a glance upwards, saw nothing and dropped his crosshairs onto a one-armed Falconer in New Avalon CrMM colours that was trying to cover the ComGuards' Grim Reaper. He snapped the shot into one of the jump-jet housings that flared up above and behind the cockpit, then glanced up again.

He was in time to see parachutes bloom outwards. "Airdrop?"

"The best sort," the operator declared.

Catherine's Mackie raised its autocannon skywards and for a moment he was afraid she was going to fire on the new arrivals. Instead she transmitted in the clear: "Crush them now, Giant Robo!"

Apt, if totally confusing. But that was the mysterious Steiner-Daivon in a nutshell.

The attackers had also seen what was coming down and they split between trying to press harder, to fall back and to fire on the troops dropping from the sky.

A Salamander in the red-white-and-blue of the Davion Guards didn't even wait to land before it fired off a volley of LRMs. The missiles rained down on the Grim Reaper - among those that had tried to fire upwards and it fell to the ground, white paint blackened by the explosive warheads - where it still had armour at all!

The Falconer was no more fortunate. The mechwarrior had seen the writing on the wall and was bounding backwards towards the NAIS campus when a Gunslinger blasted free of its harness and literally rammed it out of the sky.

The two BattleMechs - with a combined mass of a hundred and sixty tons - slammed to the earth with the Falconer on the bottom and both its hips snapped.

Apparently undaunted, the Gunslinger rolled to its feet and as more 'Mechs and infantry landed around it it both gauss rifles fired, the barely visible supersonic slugs carooming off a ComGuards Rhino that had been pushing up behind the 'Mechs and suddenly found itself caught in the open by a superior force.

More tanks swarmed out from Albion - Rommel and Patton battle tanks from the defense perimeter now unleashed to reinforce the troops being landed.

"All units," a sharp voice rang out. "This is General Jon Davion. Advance on NAIS before the loyalist can reorganise."

Searcy didn't wait for any further instructions, he moved his 'Mech sideways to prevent Catherine from pushing her Mackie forwards into this advance. "You're in the second line, your highness," he insisted.

"I didn't think Davions got special treatment on the battlefield," she observed tartly, although she halted her Mackie in place.

"It's not special treatment," Conner Sortek told her. "We're in no state to spearhead this push. Half our armour is gone and most of us need a reload." And not to mention that the entire First Battalion of the Fifth Royal Guards was currently less than a company in strength.

* * *

Chapter 31

Avalon City, New Avalon

Crucis March, Federated Commonwealth

20 July 3063

Under Clovis and Daniel Holstein, the technical crews had worked through the night and as a result Peter's Mackie was fit for service... more or less.

Mount Davion was rearing up in easy view as Peter marched his Mackie forwards, crosshairs tracking across a red-and-black Centurion that was trying to shelter behind a very expensive apartment building. He fired his ER PPC and the wave of heat reminded him not to follow up with his large laser - the heatsinks simply couldn't cope with two extended range weapons firing at the same time.

His shot missed anyway, but the ultra autocannon blew the crest off the Centurion's head, damaging the sensors there.

A moment later, John Parker's Warhammer IIC hit the building right at the central foyer and simply crashed straight through. The tenants of the building would probably be horrified but eighty tons of metal was barely slowed and the NAIS professor placed the muzzle of one of his PPCs against the Centurion's chestplate and fired the charged particle beam directly through the armour and into the ammo bins behind.

Fortunately for the mechwarrior within, the Centurion must have been refitted with CASE because the secondary explosions didn't gut the entire reactor. However, losing it's entire ammunition load would have left it of limited tactical value, even if the reactor shielding had survived.

As it was, the Robinson Ranger's Centurion spun through a quarter circle and then fell - left arm first - into the apartment block, doing more no doubt very expensive damage.

"We're almost there," Peter exclaimed as he moved past it and saw the government buildings ahead.

Cat's Mackie - concerns about them both being on the battlefield were secondary to pressing their current advantage - was right behind his. "Almost only counts with horseshoes and hand grenades," she told him tersely.

"Then let's get inside and be done with the 'almost'," he told her and scanned the area. "There should be an entrance to the 'Mech hangers near the front gates."

The wall around the exterior of the Royal Court only looked small compared the state buildings beyond it and the gatehouse was suitably fortified, but there were almost fifty 'Mechs from the Fifth Royal Guards, Davion Assault Guards and Team Banzai which let them make light work of the turrets, the heavy metal doors and the pair of Lyran Guards Demolishers that had been waiting in ambush between the inner and outer doors.

Peter and Catherine yielded to Conner Sortek's caution and held their 'Mechs back from the gates as the allied 'Mechs broke through. Their first warning that the attack had gone awry was the explosion of light and fire from behind then wall as the first 'Mech through the gate was obliterated.

"Get away from the walls!"

The source of the warning would have to be identified from Battle ROM's later. It came too late for some.

Little more than a second after the cry of warning, the sections of wall to either side of the gate crashed outwards and the attackers suddenly found themselves on the defensive, under fire from an equal number of black-and-grey painted 'Mechs as battle armored troops swarmed closer.

Those 'Mechs caught under the wall had been battered and knocked from their feet, but few were entirely out of action. That mercy ended as they took the first brunt of the assault.

Peter shouted in fury as he saw a Marauder II crushing one of the Royal Guards' 'Mechs into the ground with one foot. The enemy 'Mech lowered its arm and deliberately fired into the cockpit with the PPC and laser in one arm.

Raising his own weapons, Peter forgot all about heat control and hammered the black-and-grey Marauder II with everything he had. Sweat sprang from his brow and warning lights turned amber, while the bird-like 'Mech seemed to shrug off his fire.

Catherine added her own fire to the attack, but the rest of the attack force were caught up now in their own struggle - 'Mechs battling in twos and threes at most while battle armour scurried around their feet - Lyran made suits of quadrupedal armour, Fenris suits - firing pulse lasers or machine guns into vulnerable ankles.

One pack of the suits charged towards the siblings but PPC bolts lashed out from one side, executing the first pair and forcing the rest to move more cautiously. Flicking his eyes to one side, Peter saw the fire had come from John Parker's Warhammer IIC.

That distraction cost the mechwarrior, for a lumbering assault 'Mech - something the warbook called a Hauptmann - ripped into Parker's armour with lasers and a heavy autocannon. The Warhammer IIC fell.

Peter released the trigger of his left joystick. leaving his ER PPC out of the next salvo rather than risk shutting down his 'Mech. With the hand free he jabbed the command channel active. "Axe-Actual, we're heavily engaged at the gates. Looks like the Fox's Den security battalions!"

He had time for no more because the Marauder II had its own weapons up and aimed for him now. A gauss rifle shot blew the searchlight from his shoulder - two metres left and it would have decapitated his Mackie - and armour blew away from his right arm and all across the Mackie's chest as its lasers and PPCs hit true.

Peter had to focus entirely on keeping his 'Mech steady under that barrage. As it was it staggered back, knocking into the shoulder of Cat's Mackie, and throwing her next shot from the autocannon astray.

The Marauder II still stood tall, despite the pounding they were delivering. Assault 'Mechs were simply not that fragile, and a second bird-like 'Mech joined it - a lighter but equally deadly Maelstrom.

Gritting his teeth, Peter pushed his 'Mech forwards, this time dropping the large laser out of the circuit. His ER PPC bit into the shoulder of the Marauder II and he adjusted his aim to let his autocannon fire at the same joint. The limb was left half-severed and Cat took his hint and peppered the heavier 'Mech with her autocannon. One of the cluster rounds intersected with the shoulder actuator and the Marauder II's right arm dropped away from it.

Fox's Den - buried deep beneath Mount Davion - was the AFFC's most secure command centre. A sprawling administrative complex was located on the northern edge of Avalon City that handled most of the running of the Armed Forces on a day to day basis, but major strategic command took place there.

Its guardians were selected just as carefully than the members of the Davion Guards - in fact, on paper, they served as part of that brigade. But where the Guards drew from decorated heroes, top-ranking cadets on a basis of honour, ability and loyalty to House Davion; the security were chosen on loyalty above other moral issues, particularly recruiting from DMI veterans who had carried out deniable operations on foreign soil. It was said of the security battalions that they would have held their ground and defended the Den even if their own families were used as human shields against them. No one had ever put it to the test, of course.

The Maelstrom fired on Catherine, side-stepping to keep line of sight on her as Peter shielded his sister from the Marauder II's return fire. Cat ignored the smaller 'Mech, continuing to pound the Marauder II alongside Peter, although he saw armour shattering across her flanks.

Out of the corner of his eyes, Peter saw Michael Searcy's Mackie, coolant pouring from cracked and broken armour rammed itself up against a JagerMech III. The cockpit cover exploded and the mechwarrior hurtled skywards. A second later the reactor overheated and superheated air erupted from its damaged torso. The explosion smashed the JagerMech thirty metres backwards, missing much of its frontal armour, but it remained upright until an Assault Guards Victor eviscerated it with a shot from the arm-mounted heavy autocannon.

Cat's Mackie fell suddenly, its pilot crying out in alarm. Peter unleashed a full alpha strike into the Marauder II, accepting the heat burden, and glanced back. One leg had been severed just above the ankle and he realised the Fenris battle armor was back. He lashed out and kicked one, the armour no match for the impact of his Mackie's foot.

With brutal force, a PPC shot penetrated the side of his Mackie and he realised the Maelstrom had taken advantage of Cat being on the ground to get behind him. The shot had smashed a heatsink, hampering his ability to bleed off the heat of his alpha strike.

I should have forced Cat to stay at HQ, he thought, swivelling and trying to keep both the enemies in his gun arcs. The Mackie rocked again as the Marauder II's own PPC lashed against it with ferocious force.

On the ground, Cat didn't bother trying to stand, just rolling to point her remaining guns at the thus far undamaged Maelstrom.

It was like spitting into the wind and the heavy 'Mech returned fire, shots visibly punching into the prone Mackie's inner systems.

Then a shot slammed into the Maelstrom's own rear armour. The pilot spun to deal with the new arrival but was only halfway around when a Victor body-blocked it to the ground.

An elephantine Goliath followed, PPC and LRMs plastering the Marauder II from the right side. More LRMs came down - long range shots as Peter saw a pair of Atlas far behind the new arrivals, running flat out to catch up as best they could.

Even more welcome were four Blizzard hover transports, doors open as they roared down the avenue at high speed, Cavalier battle armour leaping recklessly out with weapons already firing on their Fenris counterparts.

Through the Marauder's broken armour, Peter could see the structural framework and the myomer bundles... and what he thought might be the outline of the fusion reactor at its core.

His autocannon came up almost without his realising it and he centred the crosshairs over that shape and closed his index finger on the trigger.

There was no hail of shells though - with a sharp bleep the battle computer reported a jam.

"Sonuva-"

A scarred and battered Mackie, almost unrecognisable with no arms and little armour remaining, fired the 8cm laser in its chest, skewering the reactor. For a moment the Marauder stood stock still and then the tension bled out of its myomers as the reactor safeties shut it down. The assault 'Mech fell to the ground in an undignified heap.

Peter tried to make out the markings of the Mackie, only to see what little protection it retained ripped away as another 'Mech crashed into the skirmish.

Black and grey armour, a skull-face, pulse lasers in each forearm that ripped away the guts of the Mackie. It didn't need the massive, multi-barrel autocannon above its hip to finish the kill but it fired anyway, tracking shots up through the barrel chest of the Royal Guards 'Mech.

Some sort of custom Atlas, Peter realised. He fired his PPC into it, tearing away a swathe of armour across one of its upper arm, and the assault 'Mech turned smoothly towards him, autocannon still cycling.

The shots crashed against his Mackie with brutal force, ripping open armour. The gyro strained to compensate and failed. Peter saw the sky, blue where it wasn't stained by smoke, as he felt the ninety-ton machine topple backwards, crashing down on Catherine's.

If I roll either way, he thought, looking up at the Atlas looming above them, I'll be exposing Catherine.

The Atlas brought its arms around and Peter could practically see the focusing lenses within the large pulse laser mounts...

With flared jump-jets the Assault Guards' Victor leapt between them. The eighty ton 'Mechs rocked violently as the Atlas unleashed a murderous barrage into it, and then that in turn fell back on top of Peter's Mackie, pinning it.

There was a sudden pause in the fighting and then the Atlas lit up as every 'Mech remaining on the battlefield seemed to concentrate their fire upon it at once.

Few 'Mechs could boast the durability of an Atlas, but not even it could remain standing under such a ferocious close-range barrage. Armoured panels blew out, venting autocannon rounds and SRMs before they could detonate inside the 'Mech, but the assault 'Mech was reduced to a smoking wreck in mere seconds.

Realising he couldn't free his Mackie, Peter started unstrapping himself. He'd have to get out and hope he could make it to one of the Blizzards.

Popping the hatch he clambered out and saw - as he could not have from within his cockpit - that the Victor's head had been shot through by the Atlas' autocannon. Light was streaming through the ruptured faceplate and out through the back of the helmet-like armour plating.

The mechwarrior must have been killed instantly, he realised. I should at least find out their name - they died saving my life.

It only took a few steps before he had a clean line of sight on the stencilled letters below the Victor's cockpit hatch.

A. SORTEK.

Peter's knees went out from under him.

* * *

Chapter 32

Castle Davion, New Avalon

Crucis March, Federated Commonwealth

21 July 3063

The coffin holding Ardan Sortek's bodily remains lay in state in Notre Dame Cathedral. Fortunately, the centre of the New Avalon Catholic Church had been spared more than incidental damage in the fighting - looking down from Castle Davion, Peter could see a few scars but the centuries old cathedral would still serve.

Perhaps the same could be said of the rest of the Federated Suns.

"Not even a trace?" he asked in frustration.

Michael Searcy shook his head. "I'm not an expert investigator, but she seems to have packed thoroughly and the cleaning staff are very efficient. We're bringing in forensic teams but I don't know if we'll find any usable DNA samples in your... in the Archon's quarters." He paused. "Has there been any sign of her?"

Peter snorted. "If we had her then I wouldn't need forensics to try to find samples, now would I?"

"Okay..." Searcy raised his hands defensively. "I'll just... go keep looking, shall I?"

"Thank you," Peter said sharply and then sighed. "Sorry, this just... isn't how I saw things as turning out. I appreciate your help."

Castle Davion's last defenders had surrendered shortly before sundown the previous day, although there were still hold-outs in other parts of New Avalon - most of whom hadn't heard or simply didn't believe that the leader who they were fighting to protect had departed Avalon City at some point the day before. The arrival of Ardan Sortek and Stephan Cooper along with the Davion Assault Guards and First NAIS Cadet Cadre had apparently been enough to convince her that the battle had been lost.

Several thousand soldiers had still died on both sides, loyalists kept unaware that they were no more than a diversion for Katrina's escape.

Searcy nodded in understanding and opened the door to leave, only to step back instead, admitting Captain Gordon.

The captain saluted crisply. "Your highness, we've found someone you need to see."

Peter rubbed his chin tiredly. "Who is it?"

"Jackson Davion, sir."

"What damp rock was he hiding under?"

Gordon shook his head. "He was in the palace detention centre, your highness. As far as we can tell he'd been locked in there for at least forty-eight hours."

Wrinkling his brow in calculation, Peter tried to fit that into the timeline of the last few days. "Before Sortek landed? How sure are you of that?"

"We're double-checking, but it adds up so far."

Peter looked around and confirmed that the office he'd commandeered had enough chairs. "Did you bring him here?"

"Yes sir. He's under guard in one of the anterooms."

"Okay, send for General Davion... Jon Davion, I mean. And General Lucy Davion as well." This could get confusing. "I'll see him once they arrive. They're family, they deserve to be here."

The cousins arrived fairly quickly, along with Catherine.

"I thought you were resting." Peter looked at his sister with concern. She had bags under her eyes.

"I'll rest as soon as you do," she told him. "How much sleep did you get last night."

He sighed. "I'm fine."

"You won't be if you don't get a few hours of downtime."

He rubbed his jaw. "I promise I'll get a full night's sleep tonight."

"And I'll do the same." Catherine slumped into a chair at the side of the room, her posture nothing like the proper and dignified way that Peter remembered Katherine behaving before he left for Saint Marinus. Back then she'd been very much aware that she was on display at all times. He thought that this Catherine might be something of a surprise to the royal court by contrast.

"Alright, captain." He looked over at Gordon. "Bring Marshal Davion in please. And thank you for finding him."

The white-haired Field Marshal entered the room crisply. His uniform was a little creased - Peter guessed that he'd been wearing it since he was locked up - but otherwise he probably seemed little different from how he would have reporting for duty to Katrina a few days ago. His frosty blue eyes flicked from one to another of the four who awaited him and he paused a moment on Catherine, brow furrowed.

"Field Marshal Davion." Peter kept his tone neutral.

"Your highness." Jackson inclined his head. "Not quite the homecoming you expected when you left New Avalon?"

Peter frowned and shook his head. So much had been different then. His mother had taken up the reins of government after father's death but none of what had happened since had been in Peter's expectations. "You may as well sit down. You'll remember your cousins of course."

"Naturally." Jackson nodded equably towards Jon and Lucy. "And this must be the mysterious Catherine Morgan." He gave her a second look. "Although our reports didn't convey the resemblance to your sister."

"Catherine is my sister." Peter couldn't keep a snap of anger from his voice. "I don't know who you've been working for."

The Field Marshal froze for a moment, halfway into his chair. "I... What are you suggesting?"

Jon leant forwards. "Blood tests confirm that Catherine and Peter are siblings - and more distantly, relatives of ours. Do you know of any similar test to show that the woman you were working for was really a Davion? Or even a Steiner?"

Jackson slowly finished sitting down, saying nothing for a moment, eyes lowered in thought. "I don't recall any such test being carried out. No one had any doubts of her identity - after all, she's been in the public eye at all times. Do you have her in custody?"

"No. She left her soldiers to die here. We don't know where she evacuated to. Do you?"

The old field marshal shook his head slowly. "No. I was dismissed and detained once it was clear that you were going to take the city." He smiled thinly. "I recommended pulling back to Brunswick - we have, or at least had, enough dropships to withdraw our forces more or less intact and we could resupply from the factories there."

"She didn't like that?" asked Lucy.

He shook his head. "No. I assume Simon Gallagher took over. Did he get away as well?"

"Not exactly." Jon folded his arms. "He shot himself after the gates were breached."

Jackson lowered his eyes for a moment. "Poor Simon. Loyalty should be a virtue, but when it isn't returned..."

"Should we expect the same from you?" asked Peter. "I don't plan on giving you access to a gun with one bullet, even if it might be traditional."

The older man stiffened. "That would be no kindness, your highness. I assume that I will face a court martial."

Catherine stirred in her seat. "We can't crucify half the Armed Forces. There isn't enough wood and the..." She broke off and blinked in bemusement as everyone stared at her.

"Cat, crucify?"

Her face coloured. "Damn. Court martial," she said, enunciating carefully. "Sorry."

"But then what would wood have to do with court martials?" Jackson asked carefully.

"Wooden walls and iron men, like Athens against the Spartans." Catherine looked around the room, as if for support. "We need them against Blake?" she offered weakly.

Peter stood and went over to her. "Cat, you really need to sleep."

Her voice was truculent. "So do you."

"I promise," and he held his hand up in quasi-salute, "That I'll get some sleep as soon as we're done here."

Catherine met his eyes and then nodded meekly.

Peter helped her to her feet and guided her to the door, handing her off to Captain Gordon. Once the door was closed he slumped against it. "Dammit, I thought she was getting better."

"What exactly is wrong with her?" asked Lucy, clearly speaking for Jackson in this.

"I don't know," Peter admitted. "We've not exactly had time to get her proper treatment or even diagnosis. When she found me on Zaniah she was barely coherent. Her memory is scrambled. It leaves her making connections that aren't there or are at least tangents. I'd take her to the College of Medical Science but..." He made a helpless gesture.

"Well there are other hospitals," Jackson offered kindly. "You've won the day, your highness. Even if the war goes on, you can afford time now for her, surely."

Peter returned to his seat. "Yeah. She's not wrong though. While I never planned to crucify anyone literally, I can't exactly purge the AFFC of everyone who's fought for Katrina. Or who is currently fighting for her. We've got two wars on our hands and could have a third at any time, depending on what Liao gets up to."

"Are you proposing an amnesty?" asked Jon.

He rubbed his chin and then nodded. "I'll court martial over war crimes," Peter declared. "But I can't honestly blame soldiers for following Katrina when, up until Art... until seven months ago, there was no other Steiner-Davion stepping up to lead them." He turned his head to look at Jackson. "There's going to have to be a lot of reorganisation and I'm not confirming anyone in the jobs they held."

"I take it you want my resignation?"

"I can't keep you as Marshal of Armies." Peter studied the older man for a long moment. "If you want to retire, your long service has more than earned you that. Or... if you give me your oath that you won't follow Katrina any further, then I certainly have a job for you."

"I think she's done with me, whatever I say," Jackson mused. "You'd trust my word."

"Bishop Sortek speaks highly of you." He shrugged slightly. "He's the new Marshal of Armies, if you hadn't guessed."

"And Ardan as your champion?"

The lightly asked question sent a shiver down Peter's spine. "No one's told you then."

Jackson paused. "Told me what?"

Peter searched for the words and Jon stepped into the breach. "Ardan Sortek was killed in action yesterday," he said gently. "One of the last shots fired hit his cockpit."

Jackson's eyes seemed to dim. "I knew it could happen, but I never thought it would. Losing friends and family is one thing, to lose them to troops under your own command..."

Peter nodded in understanding but said nothing.

After a moment to gather himself, Jackson looked up. "If you'll accept my service, your highness, then you have it."

"I'll need a formal, public statement of that."

"Of course."

"And in the meantime." Peter looked out of the window. There was still smoke in the sky, but it had lessened to a degree. From the clouds coming westwards off the ocean, the city could expect rain in the near future. "In the meantime, Jon can take you to the communications centre. See if you can talk any of the holdouts into laying down their arms. I don't want to kill more of them if I don't have to."


	6. Federated Suns

Part Six - Federated Suns

_Losing friends and I'm chasing sleep_

_Everybody's worried about me_

_In too deep_

_Say I'm in too deep (in too deep)_

Chapter 33

Castle Davion, New Avalon

Crucis March, Federated Commonwealth

22 July 3063

The screen of the meeting room lit exactly up on schedule and Peter felt tension leak out of him. Whatever happened, this was it.

Hundreds of light years away, another meeting room was set up with a table lined up exactly with that Peter was sitting at. A double-chain of Class A HPG stations constructed at Katrina's request (and enormous cost to the budgets of both the Lyran Alliance and Federated Commonwealth) sent constant signals each way, presenting the illusion of a single room containing the leaders of both halves of the realm.

He had some recollection that the Star League had managed this for the heads of all six member-states, but that had been for emergencies only. Katrina had made it routine.

While there was ample room at each 'half' of the table, Peter had chosen to be attended only by Bishop Sortek, Jackson Davion and by Catherine. On her end, Nondi Steiner sat alone.

His great-aunt looked older than he remembered, the lines on her face only heightening the resemblance to Peter's last recollections of his grandmother. Her Steiner-grey eyes moved smoothly across them and her lips tightened as she saw Jackson unbound and in full uniform.

"Aunt Nondi."

"Peter." Her voice was level, giving nothing away.

After a pause to let her make any overture, Peter realised she wasn't going to venture anything and he'd have to make the first move. It wasn't surprising, just disappointing. "You'll remember Field Marshal Davion, of course, and perhaps you're familiar with Field Marshal Bishop Sortek."

"By reputation only," she said. "Not Ardan Sortek?"

"My cousin lies in state," Bishop told her.

Peter felt a rush of fury as Nondi's face betrayed a sliver of satisfaction before she restored a mask of dispassion. "My condolences to his family," the old general said coldly. She looked at Catherine for a second time and then away, dismissively.

"And I believe it has been many years since you met my sister Catherine." Peter tried not to let his anger cloud his words.

To his pleasure, Nondi took the bait. "That is not your sister, boy." Her tone was a whip-crack. "Do you think I don't know my niece?"

"Blood tests say otherwise," Peter told her with great satisfaction. "Tests done here, and on Addicks and on Zaniah III confirm Catherine as my sister - and a direct matrilineal match to your uncle Hermann."

"He's telling the truth, Nondi." Jackson spoke quietly but with conviction. "There are very few close Davion relatives - but we were able to confirm distant kinship to myself and to Tabitha Steiner. She's dead too, I'm sorry to say."

Nondi's voice was contemptuous. "And this was enough to turn your coat?"

"We were also able to confirm closer kinship through their paternal grandmother to House Campbell." Jackson let the accusation wash over him. "Without access to the Archon I cannot say whether she is a Steiner-Davion or not, but this Catherine assuredly is."

"She escaped you then."

Peter inclined his head. "FCS Lucien Davion jumped out of the system last night. I cannot confirm she was aboard, but she fled the palace before we took the city so it seems a safe assumption." He paused. "She left thousands of soldiers to die as a diversion. I don't believe grandmother would have approved."

"You never knew your grandmother, boy." Nondi shook her head sharply in denial.

"From her example, nor did your Archon - whether she's my sister or not." He gripped the edge of the table with both hands. "Personally I hope she isn't, because we have the evidence now."

"What evidence?"

"Payment," Bishop Sortek answered. "To the same assassin that murdered Melissa Steiner-Davion."

Nondi shook her head. "I've seen that evidence and there's nothing to say Katrina was the Steiner who paid for the kill. Besides, Victor is the one who profited - his mother's death gave him his throne."

His mother had offered to stand down in Victor's favour, but that came from Morgan Kell and Peter knew only too well that Nondi would deny on instinct anything that came from the mercenary. "The accounts used could have been accessed by Victor or Katrina for that... payment, yes. But by 3061 Katrina had sole control of them. And she paid for another assassination in the same way. Omiko Kurita's, to be specific. He tried for her on Mogyorod last year."

"Killing a Kurita is hardly a sin," his great-aunt said. "Assuming, of course, that you didn't fabricate this evidence of yours."

"Are you being deliberately obtuse?" Peter asked her in disbelief. "She had your niece - my mother! - killed. All so she could move one step closer to usurping the throne."

"I have only your word for that, and removing an incompetent ruler is something my sister did - did you forget that?"

Catherine leant forwards. "And that is why Katrina must be removed. She is worse than Alessandro Steiner. Did he ever disband the Estates-General? Or cause civil war?"

"Let that be on Victor's head."

"The fighting was well underway before Victor declared himself," Peter told her. "You can't blame him for that. It's Katrina - and you - who've made this bed. For god's sake, Aunt Nondi! She sold Count Fisk a pardon for his son's manslaughter! And for some bauble! Try to tell me that that was the action of a just ruler."

"I can see that this conversation is going nowhere." Nondi made a sharp gesture and the end of the room was replaced by a ComStar holding signal.

Peter stared at it and then reached out and turned off their own cameras, ending their own signal. "Well that did nothing."

"We had to try." Jackson shook his head. "Marshal Steiner has always had strong opinions and I fear she's grown more... set in her ways."

"And we have the recording," pointed out Catherine. "Let the media have it."

The three men turned and stared at her.

"That doesn't seem wise," Bishop said after a moment. "A private conversation."

"It was a negotiation, not a conversation." The corner of her lips curled up. "I don't recall any non-disclosure agreement. You know that Katrina's staff made heavy use of propaganda. Why not counter it with the truth."

Jackson hesitated and then nodded. "It cuts the wrong way to me too," he admitted. "But you're right. This isn't military data that needs to be secured. Not everyone is as rigid as Marshal Steiner. And everyone that believes it is one less person that has to be fought."

"If Katrina is headed for Tharkad, it'll take her months," added Catherine. "For that duration, her cause is in the hands of Nondi, who is a fine general but hardly as politically astute. It's an opening we should exploit. Let the public have the full and unvarnished truth for a change."

There was a chime from the comm unit buried in the table as Peter considered the idea. He tapped it to accept the call. "This is Prince Peter."

"Sir, you have a live call via the HPG."

Peter blinked. "Is it from Tharkad?" Had someone there put a gun to Nondi's head?

"No sir. It's the Precentor-Martial of ComStar."

He rubbed his jaw. "Focht, Dow or my brother?" Anastasius Focht was still the man most associated with the title and Victor was supposedly merely on leave from the role, although how that would turn out was anyone's guess. Peter knew little about the acting-Precentor Martial except his name.

"Precentor Martial Gavin Dow, sir."

Peter took a deep breath. "Put him through."

The face that appeared on the screen was only slightly more familiar than the name. It was also spread across the entire wall until someone adjusted the display and Dow's features shrank to a more reasonable size.

"Your highness." The Precentor dipped his head respectfully. "Thank you for making time for me so immediately."

While the content of the call to Nondi was hopefully still encrypted, it would have taken very little, Peter supposed, for Dow to have been made aware of when the call began and to be ready when it ended and when Peter would be both free and readily accessible by this means. One of the more subtle powers bequeathed by Jerome Blake to his organisation had been good call scheduling.

"It seems convenient for both of us," Peter answered drily. "And I suppose we want to discuss the same matter."

Dow's expression shifted smoothly to regretfulness. "If by that you mean the 299th Division then it seems that we do."

"Unless you're about to declare an interdiction, I assume that they were not acting on your orders when they joined the Archon's forces here?"

"ComStar's position remains one of neutrality." Dow wasn't even sweating. "My information is that Demi-Precentor Fedt chose to ignore that in favour of a general instruction given to the ComGuards that they should defend the worlds on which they are stationed."

"There would seem to be an obvious conflict between those two orders," noted Bishop.

"Our neutrality on the current... disagreements within the Federated Commonwealth and Lyran Alliance comes from the office of the Primus, and thus takes precedence over instructions from a mere Acting-Precentor Martial." Dow's brows lowered. "I hope that I may ensure that the 299th's personnel are educated on the distinction, but they are currently in your custody, not my own."

"And you want them back."

"The more junior personnel are guilty, I would think, of following their appointed officers. My understanding is that you are extended such a policy to soldiers of the Federated Commonwealth?"

Peter acknowledged the point with a nod and riposted: "Those not found to be guilty of war crimes."

Dow leant back slightly. "And do you suspect ComGuards are guilty of such?"

"Some of them, support staff for example, have had no opportunity to do so. Reports from the frontlines suggest that combat elements showed no quarter to the disarmed and defenseless," Bishop growled.

"The 299th saw service on Tukkayid against Clan Smoke Jaguar," Dow reminded them. "They have not, it seems, had a chance to adjust to fighting less fanatical opposition. I appreciate that such conduct must lead to disciplinary action."

And you want to be the one dishing it out, Peter thought.

Before he could speak, Catherine leant forwards. "What status do the 299th hold at this time, Precentor Martial? Relative, for example, to the 244th Division that was declared rogue earlier this year when they joined Prince Victor's cause."

Dow paused. "The situation is... parallel."

"Rogues... effectively pirates in your eyes?"

"The 244th were given a chance to return to their posts before that judgement was made." And all of three soldiers had done so, leaving Victor reinforced by the equivalent of two combined arms regiments.

Peter gave his sister a nod. "It seems reasonable that members of the Division not suspected of war crimes can be remanded into ComStar custody. Along with those found innocent, of course. What you do then is up to you, although I would suggest stationing them... elsewhere."

"That suggestion seems wise," Dow allowed. "With their equipment?"

"Battlefield salvage and surrendered equipment are the prizes of the victors." Jackson Davion's focus seemed to be a little above and behind Dow's face. "That is the custom of warfare since time immemorial."

That didn't include the HPG complex itself or the ComGuards base there, but field facilities and combat equipment found outside it was fair game. And it would be needed because clearly the war wasn't about to end and Peter would have to both garrison New Avalon and establish a new task force to take the conflict to the next battlefield.

Team Banzai had formally re-established themselves and informally agreed to help with the former. Detailed contract negotiations for that would commence tomorrow. The 1st NAIS Cadet Cadre was going to have to be stripped though, with the young soldiers - now seasoned - joining the Davion Guards and their teachers going back to help rebuild the battered Academy.

"If I may negotiate," Dow began.

"Regarding the war crimes," Peter told him. "They will be investigated and tried under the same terms as AFFC soldiers. ComStar representation is certainly acceptable and on a case-by-case basis, we may remand individuals to your own military courts."

The Precentor Martial saw his petition for equipment was dismissed and subsided. "I would prefer that, wherever possible. I will arrange for Precentor New Avalon to appoint representatives in the meantime."

Peter nodded. "I will be glad to hear from him. Perhaps you could clarify your instructions to your forces elsewhere."

The call broke off with an agreement on that point at least and Peter rubbed his jaw. "He's more influential than a temporary replacement for Victor should be. The Precentor Martial is usually junior to the First Circuit but he was talking about 'arranging' the Precentor New Avalon's decisions."

"A rising man," Cat agreed. "Primus Mori grows no younger."

"No Primus has ever come from the ComGuards," Jackson said with some surprise.

"They've never been as important as they are now," she pointed out. "Dow could use it as a springboard to a First Circuit seat when Victor returns. Assuming they want him back. His departure leaves him vulnerable just as fighting the Clans left a vacancy here."

Peter winced. Once is happenstance, twice is coincidence, thrice a pattern... and Victor had chosen to chase a fight on the Jade Falcon border back when their mother died, missing her funeral.

For that matter, what happens to the Federated Commonwealth and Lyran Alliance if he does try to go back to ComStar?

* * *

Chapter 34

Fox's Den, New Avalon

Crucis March, Federated Commonwealth

30 July 3063

With its security withdrawn for the last ditch defense of Castle Davion's gates, the Fox's Den had fallen into the hands of the Davion Heavy Guards almost intact. There had been an abortive attempt at purging the computers but several of the remaining officers had been sympathisers feeding information to Bishop Sortek and they'd delayed that long enough for Jon Davion's infantry to arrive.

"What's he doing here?" demanded Stephan Cooper as he entered the central briefing room. He pointed one finger at Jackson Davion.

"Making himself useful," Peter assured him. "If nothing else, he's saved us time lives bringing the Crucis March Militias to surrender."

Cooper shook his head and took a seat without waiting for permission. "Seeing him next to your sister there makes it look as if not much has changed," he grumbled.

"Appearances can be deceiving." Peter looked at the screens dominating one wall of the command centre, where data was constantly streaming in reflection of the latest reports, and shook his head. It would take time to get used to interpreting it. "Jon, can you give me a high-level overview of where we stand?"

"In terms of the Federated Commonwealth?" the newly promoted Marshal asked. On Peter's nod he manipulated his controls to bring up a display of the broad wedge of space occupied by House Davion's realm, golden worlds framed by the red of the Draconis Combine and the green of the Capellan Confederation.

"There's no immediate concern about Katrina's Loyalists making an attempt to retake New Avalon," Jon confirmed. "When Katrina had Jackson reinforce New Avalon he called in effectively every mobile unit she could rely on from the Crucis March. The other March Militias lack the transport and to some degree the inclination to try anything - Kestrel has declared for us and once your conversation with Nondi reaches them it's likely the rest will do the same."

"Fair weather allies," Cooper grumbled.

"But allies nonetheless." Lucy Davion folded her hands. "Most of them aren't in position to do anything immediately useful but they can probably scrape together enough transport to deal with ongoing skirmishes across the outer regions of the Crucis March."

Bishop nodded. "We don't want to have to spread out our main units in penny-packet out to deal with that, so there's a start."

"Have you heard from the March Lords?" Catherine looked more rested than she had since... since they parted at Delavan, Peter thought. Hopefully that would help with her recovery but he still had to get some mental health professionals vetted to speak with her.

"Nothing so far."

She frowned. "Duke Hasek was officially neutral but opposed to Katrina because she was circumventing his authority. Duke Sandoval was the same but supporting her because she backed his invasion of the Combine."

"Destroying the Third Robinson Rangers won't help us with that," Peter mused.

"Can we afford to continue supporting his operations?" Cooper looked around the room. "I'd rather have his regiments fighting for us, but the optics on that..."

"It'd do you no favours politically to call him back," Jackson agreed. "On the other hand, taking Addicks already cut into what he had available so that bridge may have been burned already."

"Since Katrina no longer has anything to offer him, it's unlikely Duke Sandoval will continue to offer her tacit support," advised Jon. "We believe most of his regiments can be considered neutral to the civil war but will continue to support the fighting in the Combine. There are a few exceptions, mostly along the Outworlds region. As of the last report, Tanced Sandoval and your sister Yvonne are headed for Woodbine to regroup there after..."

"After Mayetta," Peter said and sighed. That had been a debacle - Tancred had won over a combat command of the Crucis Lancers and been pledged the support of the Mayetta Draconis March Militia only for two other DMM RCTs to hit Mayetta before he even arrived. General Yalo's incompetence had sealed the disaster and Tancred had actually had to abandon the man, extricating what forces he could. That 'betrayal' and Yalos' unsanctioned execution of imprisoned loyalist officers had done nothing for Tancred's support within his father's March.

"Yes. The Capellan March looks more promising," Jon offered. "Loyalist forces on Kathil and Sirdar have requested ceasefires, and the Fifth FedCom RCT on Chesterton has declared for us. Based on some intercepted back-office communications, it seems that the Donegal Guards RCTs on Kathil and Sirdar are looking to join their sister RCT on Kentares and return to Lyran space. Losing them would at a minimum leave the loyalist positions in the Capellan March untenable."

"How about Algol?" asked Peter, looking at the third blazing star representing major clashes ongoing in the Capellan March.

"Algol... we don't know for sure," Jon admitted reluctantly. "The Fifth Crucis Lancers are still under pressure from the Republican Guards and the Fifteenth Deneb Light Cavalry. That could change, of course, once Marshal Lipstein learns of the wider situation."

"Or they may feel that they have nothing left to lose." Bishop shook his head. "The Lancers aren't alone, are they?"

"They had two regiments of the Vegan Rangers with them. Not much more than one regiment now, due to losses." It was Catherine speaking rather than Jon. "General Stancel is bringing his Alpha Regiment from New Aragon but that'll give no more than parity of forces against the opposition."

Cooper gave Catherine a startled look and then turned back to Jon. "Is that right?"

The armor officer consulted his notes and then nodded. "Yes, that's exactly right."

"Not a good situation if they keep fighting then." Cooper gave Catherine a respectful nod. "Would we be better withdrawing our forces until we can hit Algol with significant numbers? The Crushers can reconstitute on our dropships and -"

Peter was about to interrupt but a ping from the communications screen did so for him. A high priority message. "What are those routing codes?"

"Seventh Crucis Lancers are the source - but that's a Field Marshal's originator code and their commander is a Marshal," Jon said.

Bishop nodded. "They're stationed on Winter, which is very close to Newtown Square, so there's a good chance this is from Prince Victor." He broke off and smiled self-consciously. "Of course, we could just watch it and find out."

"By all means."

Peter's approval was enough for someone to open the holo-file.

Victor Steiner-Davion's head and shoulders popped into view above the table. He was wearing dress uniform save for the golden half-breastplate, and a sling secured his arm - probably to stop him joggling the collarbone broken on Newtown Square. His line of sight was aimed close to, but not squarely, at Peter's seat and the redhead shuffled slightly to more directly face his brother.

"To my brother, my comrades in arms and to Field Marshal Sortek, my deepest thanks and congratulations. While a full report hasn't reached me at the time of sending this message, it's clear that the liberation of New Avalon has been accomplished. The cost must assuredly be high, and I regret that, but I cannot regret the freedoms we're fighting to restore to our people."

He paused. "I have no intention of trying to direct your actions from the far side of the Inner Sphere. Instead I will trust you to continue as you have begun. At this time I am moving deeper into the Lyran Alliance, into Coventry Province and eventually - I hope - to Tharkad."

Peter rubbed his chin. That seemed possible now, or at least more possible than it had been. It depended how many units fought on as Nondi ordered the or if they would defect now that their Archon was on the run.

"Ardan, you remain the best choice to lead our forces, but I must also appoint a civil leader and we can't have a divided command. I hereby appoint my brother, Peter Steiner-Davion as Regent of the Federated Commonwealth. Peter, you have the authority to give Ardan orders but not to remove him as Marshal of Armies. I hope you'll consider his advice but you have both the final authority and the final responsibility. I think you've grown into both and I look forward to seeing that when we have the chance."

Victor's eyes flicked to one side and he nodded. "I'm sure there is more that I will wish to say once I have the full report but for now, let me repeat my deep gratitude."

The holo file cut out and silence filled the room. "He must have not heard that Field Marshal Sortek is dead," Lucy said and then looked embarrassed.

Peter nodded and then looked around the room. "If anyone has any hesitation in accepting me as Victor's Regent, please say so now. I'd rather hear it now in confidence."

Cooper glanced around as if expecting someone to speak and then shook his head. "I suppose you were right about coming here. But I hope you'll listen to advice from someone other than Ardan Sortek. I doubt he'll be offering much."

"Only an example," Peter told him. "While I'd not have presumed to remove him, under the circumstances I've already offered the post to someone else. Bishop, I still feel you're the right man for the job."

The commander of the Davion Guards ran one hand through his thinning hair. "I can hardly refuse."

"You could but I'm glad that you aren't." Peter leant forwards and looked around the table. "Field Marshal Cooper, as far as I'm concerned that makes you the overall commander of the Davion Guards, and most importantly, the commander of New Avalon's Garrison. I appreciate your wish to take the Crushers out onto the frontlines, but you and they are needed here first."

Cooper grunted. "I don't like it, but you're right. We can't leave Algol alone though. Someone has to go back there."

"Agreed." He looked over at Lucy Davion. "General, I appreciate it's something of a sidestep, but I'd like you to take over the Fifth Royal Guards. Officially, I'll remain the commanding officer but in practise they need someone more experienced at the helm."

"Sir, I accept." She saluted. "Although you realise I'm not a Mechwarrior, and your Guards have nothing but Mechs."

"That's the first thing that needs to change." He folded his arms and stared defiantly at the assembled officers. "I will be taking them to Algol and I will deal with Katrina's forces there. Not just because it's the nearest sound of guns but because once we settle the Marches the focus of defeating Katrina shifts to Lyran space and Algol is as good a place as any to assemble a task force to cross the Terran corridor."

"Regency rather assumes that you'll remain here on New Avalon."

Peter bared his teeth. "My uncle Ian and many other First Princes governed from the frontlines. Perhaps not as well as they might have from here but we will never know. Right now, our people have had too much of a ruler sitting here in safety while others do their dirty work."

"And who'll govern in your absence?" asked Bishop drily. "Someone has to."

Peter turned to look at Catherine. "Congratulations, you're now my Vice-Regent."

She blinked and even looked behind herself to see if she was somehow mistaking who he was looking at. "Me?"

Cooper groaned and covered his eyes. "You can't be serious."

"I'm not leaving immediately." Peter rubbed his jaw. "Hopefully, Yvonne will be here before I go and I'll arrange other advisors."

"Then why not give them the job," Catherine asked weakly. "I'm not... not always here, Peter."

"I know." He looked her over again. "But after the last few months I've decided you have two qualities to a greater extent than anyone else I can think of. Even," he gestured around the table, "In this select company."

"Which would be?" asked Jackson Davion curiously.

Peter raised one finger. "More insight into this war than anyone else." And then another finger. "And my absolute trust."

* * *

Chapter 35

Castle Davion, New Avalon

Crucis March, Federated Commonwealth

30 August 3063

Yvonne hadn't seen Peter for almost eight years now - not since his graduation. She'd thought then that she might be welcoming him back to New Avalon but now she was the one disembarking from a dropship while he waited in the arrival lounge, shielded from both the weather and the heat of the dropship's thrusters.

"He looks well," Tancred Sandoval said in a neutral tone as he escorted her down the extending boarding passage from the dropship. Beneath them the landing pad was still too warm for vehicles but this mechanism meant no waiting.

He looks even more like father, Yvonne thought. He'd always had the same broad, powerful frame and the colouring, but now Peter was developing lines on his face. Just age... or the weight of responsibility?

"Peter," she said hesitantly as they reached the end of the passage and entered the lounge. "It's been... a long time."

"We've both grown," her brother agreed and extended both arms to take her by the forearms. For a moment they looked each other over and then he pulled her into an awkward hug, Tancred stepping back to give them space.

When the embrace was done, Yvonne glanced around and saw that the three of them were alone. "You didn't bring your Catherine?"

"'My' Catherine?" Peter made a face. "I'm not sure how to take that. I don't own her."

"But you found her. Brought her here." She paused. "Claim she's our sister."

"Blood tests don't lie."

"I know our sister. Perhaps better than you. Whether she called herself Katherine or Katrina I never saw a change in her behaviour. I don't know who this Catherine is."

Peter snorted. "I left to find out who I was and after six years I was still getting to grips with it. I've had less than a year to figure out Catherine and sometimes I think she knows less about herself than I do." He shrugged. "But we can talk about her later. How are you. And you, Tancred." He gestured with his arm, subtly re-inviting the heir to the Draconis March back into the conversation.

"It's been a long trip," Yvonne told him.

"And a wrench to leave my troops behind," added Tancred. His brigade's jumpships had been commandeered to move other units and while he could have refused, making an enemy of Peter probably wasn't worth that. Probably.

"I haven't made any hard decisions on their next orders." Peter gave them what was probably intended to be a reassuring smile. "I have to talk to you first, after all."

"I'm glad that that's a consideration."

At Tancred's tone, Yvonne took his arm again as a reassurance. He was older than Peter, more experienced... but his one campaign so far in this war had been a humiliating defeat while Peter had gone for the throat and against similar odds had won a glorious victory.

Peter's eyes betrayed that he saw Tancred's irritation, but rather than responding directly he gestured towards the door. "Why don't we talk in the car?" For safety reasons the palace drop port was far enough from the rest of the palace that it would have been an inconvenient walk. An armoured limousine was parked waiting and Yvonne asked about the damage to NAIS as they walked to it.

"Two days of fighting and two projected years of repairs," Peter told her wearily. "Some classes will resume immediately, others in temporary accommodations... and then there's the research. Fortunately faculty casualties were pretty low - they had enough warning to take sides or take cover."

"How many sided with Katherine?"

He gave her a thoughtful look. "Not so many. Except for those at the College of Military Science, I'm not going to do anything but have them on another MIIO watchlist. Although as NAIS professors they're all watched anyway."

"And those who do teach at the CMS?" asked Tancred.

"I don't want them teaching our future soldiers. Field service or administrative positions elsewhere... at least for a year or two. We have enough people up for medically recommended light duty that we can replace them."

The heir to the duchy of Robinson held the door for Yvonne. "There are other qualifications for being able to teach besides not yet being fit to fight."

"I can be selective." Peter let him enter and then followed them, sitting with his back to the driver and facing the two of them. "But loyalty matters, and I want the next generation of our officers to be trained by men and women who have bled for us."

The door closed and as they pulled away, Peter turned to Tancred. "I see a few possible options for your command, Tancred. You may see others that I don't and I'd be glad to hear them. I'm sure - because I've asked him - that Bishop Sortek will also listen. But the two of us will have the final decision."

"What options do you have in mind?" asked Tancred with a stony face.

"General Zardetto would probably like to bring the Third Crucis Lancers back up to strength with the troops he loaned to you, and we could do with a cadre to rebuild the Mayetta DMM around." Peter smiled toothily. "However, that would mean disbanding your command, which seems a little wasteful."

"I'm glad you see it that way, Peter." Yvonne raised her chin a little. "I know that Mayetta was a defeat but the men who fought for us deserve better than shame."

"General Yalos has paid for his failures when he was executed for his crimes."

"You say execution, others would say murder."

"If he had simply failed, maybe. But he faced a properly constituted court martial for the murder of Marshal DeGreer and many of her staff. A war crime committed on our behalf can't be ignored if I'm to prosecute those committed against us."

"You may find it hard to keep your hands clean," warned Tancred, but his expression had lightened.

Peter leant back and rubbed his chin as he thought. "I can only afford mercy if I am strong enough to impose justice. Or as much as I can."

"Good luck with that."

"I may need it." He smiled faintly. "We were talking about options. I pulled your jumpships to speed the 1st Ceti Hussars and the 3rd Lyran Regulars towards Algol. There's an ongoing situation there. It's not impossible that your brigade could catch up, but the logistics would be difficult and since I'll command there, sending another trusted commander might be wasteful, to use the word a second time."

"Flattery."

"Simple fact. I could also send you onwards to Woodbine, but honestly I'm not concerned greatly for the loyalty of those worlds. I'm more worried about worlds closer to New Avalon. Not everyone has accepted the change of authority there and I can't afford to weaken the garrison too much putting out those grass fires."

"I'm sorry, you said you're taking command on Algol?" asked Yvonne. "That's in the Capellan March. Why are you going there rather than staying here on New Avalon?"

"Because that's what Katrina would have done. Delegated. Given license to local officers to act while she kept her hands clean. The more George Hasek has to do to resolve this mess we've made, the less he will look to New Avalon for leadership. By stepping in and resolving this - in the favour of his authority - I both endorse him and tie him more closely to us."

"The Haseks have always supported us," she told him and felt foolish immediately. George's father Morgan had been a strong and loyal supporter to their father and to Victor until his death. But his father had been very different."

Peter was kind enough not to call her on the mistake. "Mostly, yes. But they're also loyal to the people they rule. Neglecting them would be a mistake, and one I don't feel I can afford to make."

Tancred leant forwards. "Marlette, New Avalon and Remagen Combat Regions are all short of their usual March Militias. You want me to act as a fire brigade."

"A little more than that. I know it'll take time before we can move them but it'll be easier to ship them towards New Avalon than towards Algol. In the meantime you're authorised to expand your forces by recruiting from militia, conventional forces... whatever you can dig up."

The older man hesitated. "Up to what strength?"

"Your father created the First Federated Commonwealth RCT, and oversaw the creation of four more before he took on the Draconis March. If you're agreeable, I'd entrust you with forming the Fourteenth Federated Commonwealth RCT."

Tancred tilted his head to one side. "Fourteenth?"

There had been twelve Regimental Combat Teams in the Federated Commonwealth Corps at their height, Yvonne recalled, before the Clan Invasion. The Second had been destroyed in 3057, five others had defected to Katherine and become her Alliance Guards, two of them later disbanded to form other units.

"Thirteen isn't a lucky number," Peter said simply.

"You smashed the Sixth on Addicks and the Third were destroyed on New Aragon. If the Eighth surrender -"

"They have."

Tancred nodded. "Some would suggest disbanding the Corps entirely."

"They may say that if they wish. But I believe they still have value." Peter eyed him. "Given proper leadership, that is."

"Marshal Venger has led them for a quarter of a century."

Peter nodded. "That's a long time. They need fresh blood at the top and none of the RCT commanders seem ready for it. That would be a sad end to what our fathers worked towards. I believe you can be an alternative to that."

He turned to Yvonne and grinned suddenly. "Of course, you'd also have to put up with Lord Sandoval spending a lot of time on or around New Avalon. Are you bored of him yet, Yvonne?"

"Not at all." Then she glared at him. "And whether or not I ever am, it's our business, not yours, Peter."

Her brother held up his hands in token of surrender. "Catherine will be my vice-regent while I'm away. I hope you'll support her."

"I'll do my best," she agreed, hoping she wasn't making another dreadful mistake.

* * *

Chapter 36

Castle Davion, New Avalon

Crucis March, Federated Commonwealth

5 September 3063

Peter was gone and Tancred was to have a ringside seat as Catherine Steiner-Davion had the first major challenge of her vice-regency. He'd arrived at the appointed meeting room and found that it was, as he'd anticipated, one of those looking out over the Royal Court and Peace Park towards NAIS.

At other times such a view would have been a statement of the power of the Federated Commonwealth, but work crews were everywhere and the scars of battle were still very visible.

Roger Sato, the ambassador of the Draconis Combine, was ushered into the room at the precise hour appointed for the meeting. He was of Theodore Kurita's generation, perhaps a few years younger than the Coordinator and rather than traditional japanese clothes or a military uniform he wore a black business suit of fashionable cut. In the subtle codes of Combine deportment this indicate his primary bureaucratic affiliation was with the Bureau of Development and Treaty Brothers, a subdivision of what (stripped of the usual excessive verbiage) amounted to the Combine's Ministry of the Treasury.

Punctiliously, Sato bowed to a precisely appropriate degree once the doors had closed behind him. "Lady Steiner-Davion. Lord Sandoval. Lord DuVall."

Catherine hadn't risen from her seat at the table. She made a fractional gesture to beckon Sato to take his own seat and he obeyed, straightening his double-breasted jacket with its silver buttons before withdrawing a pair of reading glasses from a pocket.

"Mr Sato." Horatio DuVall was Count of Dundee, a relatively minor title in the peerage, but DuValls had been part of the upper crust of New Avalon and the Federated Suns for even longer than the Sandovals. It was the alliance between Adam Davion and Nathan DuVall that had ended the First Families War in 2255 and both of their sons had served as New Avalon's Prime Minister before the Davions finally cemented their dominance. The modern head of the family wielded more influence than direct power, heading the High Council, but that influence was very real. "Your lord's realm and my own lord's appear to be in a state of war."

"An unfortunate appearance, and entirely misleading." Sato did not look aside from where Catherine sat between DuVall and Tancred. "Both realms are part of the Star League, and my own lord serves as a First Lord. For us to be at war would be unthinkable."

"Assaults upon Markab, on Donevall II, on Robinson itself... these occasions suggest otherwise."

The Combine ambassador smiled thinly. "Should I take it that the presence of the Armed Forces of the Federated Suns upon Proserpina, Al Na'ir, Markab and An Ting to be declarations of war against the Dragon?"

Tancred glanced aside at Catherine, who did not seem inclined to respond. "Those operations did not have the approval of Prince Victor."

Sato nodded. "And nor were the earlier attacks the will of the Coordinator."

"And yet they have all taken place." When Catherine spoke at last she did so quietly.

"A most unfortunate happenstance."

"The previous government of the Federated Commonwealth denounced both attacks, but did not in fact restrain Duke Sandoval." DuVall produced three documents and slid them across the table. "Lady Steiner-Davion's orders to the Duke, his response and the orders issued to his forces."

Tancred felt his face tighten. He hadn't heard about this.

Sato's expression didn't shift as he read the documents. "A defensive position is admirable, one would hope that it presages a withdrawal of those forces occupying Combine worlds."

"The First Lord is of course concerned by the fighting against the Clans," Catherine murmured. "It is regrettable that his control over other borders has been less rigorous. Naturally, as his allies, we offer our assistance."

That veiled insult wasn't missed by Sato and Tancred saw the man's self-control waver, but only for an instant. "How very generous. May ask what form this assistance will take?"

"Now that the First Lord can be assured that none of the worlds we have placed forces upon are being used to base these... rebellious elements," declared Catherine, "I am sure he will be able to focus in upon them." She smiled coldly. "And once we have assurance that his control is once again firm... well, matters may then be brought to a satisfactory conclusion."

"Your soldier's presence may be provocative," the ambassador warned.

DuVall smiled warmly. Deceptively so. "Much has been made of the abject submission and total obedience of the Combine's people to their Coordinator. Since we have assurance that Theodore Kurita means no threat to our people, we will hold any attacks upon him to be rebellious in nature - a sign his authority has not yet been fully restored."

"And an absence of such activity..." Catherine tilted her head to one side a fraction. "That, of course, would presage a return to... normality. Such as it is."

Sato's mask of urbanity had been reformed and he bowed his head to the same degree as before. "I shall communicate your desire for a peaceful resolution of this matter to the First Lord. I am sure that he will hasten to ensure peacekeepers are placed along our border. Perhaps the SLDF will be of assistance."

"We shall have to see if such forces are available."

Tancred contemplated that awful possibility for a moment and then realised that without either the Federated Commonwealth or Lyran Alliance providing forces, Theodore would have to look to the Capellans - busy trying to pacify the reconquered St Ives and Sarna worlds - or Free Worlds League. ComStar and the Free Rasalhague Republic would hardly involve themselves in this matter, the former because they had just been burned by troops taking sides in the Civil War and the latter because they, like the Combine, had a border with the Clans to tend to.

The Free Worlds League was quite a distance away. By the time troops reached the Combine's worlds, the entire situation would likely have changed. In short, the threat was empty.

"Please be sure to let me know the Coordinator's thoughts on the matter," Catherine said in dismissal.

All of them stood politely as Sato left the room and then Catherine sank back into her chair with relief. "God, what if I'd lost it there?"

"That could have been unfortunate. But you handled it smoothly," DuVall assured him. He looked past her to Tancred less sympathetically. "Bringing up Prince Victor was ill-done, Lord Sandoval. The appearance of further division within the royal family is concerning."

Catherine ran her fingers through her hair. "It's alright, Count DuVall. Lord Sandoval's frankness is welcome given some of the flatterers who have already returned to court. And his reminder that Victor looks favorably upon House Kurita allowed me to be harsher than I might otherwise have been, since they will assume Victor might rein me in."

"How very adroit of you." Tancred pushed his chair back. "It seems you have some skills on par with your counterpart."

He saw Catherine flinch. "That frankness is... less welcome. But not less valuable I suppose."

* * *

Chapter 37

Avalon City, New Avalon

Crucis March, Federated Commonwealth

13 September 3063

As a close cousin of the ruling dynasty, George Hasek would have been granted apartments in Castle Davion itself or sole occupancy of one of the many subsidiary palaces within the Royal Court without question. Instead, he'd chosen to stay in the Hasek 'townhouse', a sizeable mansion on the northern outskirts of Avalon City - twelve minutes by aircar from the capital offices of the Ministry of the Capellan March.

Jon could be so exact because he'd flown over the offices on the way out to meet the Duke. At least it was more convenient than having to fly all the way to the Hasek estates down on the south coast of Albion.

The aircar didn't land on the usual pad out back, instead setting down on the driveway just inside the main gates and idling up the drive to bring Jon directly to the portico. Apparently the duke wanted to make a statement of some kind.

Whatever the statement was, it couldn't be too antagonist though, for George Hasek was waiting himself at the door and offered his hand immediately that Jon exited the vehicle. "Please come inside," he said as they shook hands. Jon was amused again that despite their distant kinship, the Duke of New Syrtis looked far more like Jon than he did the closer Steiner-Davions - both had dark hair and the cavalry moustaches fashionable among more traditional AFFS officers.

As they stepped through the door, Jon noted the familiar plaque on the floor noting that this was the exact spot where Colonel Jason Hasek had accepted the surrender of Terran Alliance colonial marines during the Outer Reaches Rebellion. Jon's ancestor Robert had been there, if history was to be believed, having deserted the marines to advise Hasek. If so, the plaque made no mention of that fact.

The two men had died together as well, of course. Ten years later at the start of a civil war that lasted for five years.

Eight hundred years separated those men from the current generations of both families. What would they make of the current state of affairs?

"Something to drink?" George asked once they had entered the library, a formal room with the books secured behind glass doors that had locks on them. It looked out on one of the inner gardens of the mansion, two stories high with a mezzanine level and plenty of seats. Jon had always had a sneaking dislike of libraries that locked the books away. He also didn't think much of having a drinks cabinet built into a bookcase but it wasn't his house and it had been a long morning.

"I wouldn't say no."

"Gin and tonic. More tonic than gin, is that right?"

Huh, he was well prepared. "If you don't mind."

"Not at all." The duke poured the glasses himself, although John noted that he poured barely a sliver of gin into his own glass before filling the rest with tonic. Either he didn't like gin or he wanted to keep his own head clearer than Jon's. "What shall we toast to?"

"To a swift victory on Algol?"

"Hmm. Indeed." They both sipped and settled into chairs facing each other. George studied him across the gap. "Marshal, you met this Catherine Steiner-Davion on Galax, didn't you?"

"If you mean the Vice-Regent, then yes."

"Are you sure of that?"

Jon frowned. "I'm not sure what you mean."

"There is a theory," George said thoughtfully. "I'm not convinced, but I can't rule it out, that the Catherine from Galax and before that on Addicks was a body-double. Once they reached New Avalon, the real Katherine 'vanishes' and re-emerges in her brother's forces, with the body-double departing."

He couldn't help but laugh. "That's ridiculous. Besides, there was a blood test."

George tipped his glass. "Against Peter, who hasn't been seen himself in several years? Or..."

"We were also able to check her against myself and later against a distant Steiner cousin here on New Avalon."

The duke nodded. "Alright. It'll never satisfy all the conspiracy theorists, but it's as certain as we can hope for. And it doesn't really matter."

"The... authenticity of the person on the throne doesn't matter?" Jon set his glass down. "I beg to differ."

"I care more for their allegiance." George Hasek studied what was left of his own glass. "I've known Victor's siblings since they were children - he himself less so. But neither Victor nor Katherine raised a finger against Sun-Tzu as he wrecked the Sarna March and conquered St Ives - a state we had a mutual defense pact with."

"Victor had been dethroned by the time of the St Ives war."

"He was also commander of the SLDF. He was content to use that to block Katherine from being First Lord but not to defend our allies and our citizens." The duke's voice lowered dangerously. "Indeed, both of them voted to elect Liao to the First Lordship for three years. My people have learned these last few years that we cannot look for support from New Avalon. I must decide if that has changed, or not."

Jon shook his head in disappointment, "Your father was Hanse Davion's most loyal supporter."

"I am not my father and the Fox's children are not him." George paused and when he resumed, his voice was more conciliatory. "Which need not make them unworthy."

"Peter has gone directly to defend Algol, part of your March."

The duke nodded. "The Fox would have trusted my father or I to manage that. But then, the so called Archon-Princess would have stirred the matter to undermine House Hasek, so we have progress of a sort."

"Is that how you see it?"

"I don't, from what I have heard, think it is how Peter saw it. Hanse's sons seem to take more after their uncle than their father, but there were worse First Princes than Ian Davion."

And better, Jon thought. Ian, like many Davions, had loved the battlefield more than the throne. He'd died in the rearguard of his regiment, during a retreat. Brave, but ultimately neglectful of his other responsibilities. "I take your point. What, may I ask, are you looking for from Catherine since she has remained here?"

"A year ago I would have wanted reinforcements and supplies for St Ives but with Candace Liao and her family in Sun-Tzu's hands, that would be an uphill struggle." George steepled his fingers. "And I cannot expect a Steiner-Davion to forego fighting for the realm the first part of their name comes from. But we must take a stronger stance against the Liaos."

"I'm sure James Sandoval also feels we should do the same about House Kurita."

"Of course." George Hasek leant back and his face slipped into shadow. "The Capellans and Draconians are our enemies. We may at times have mutual interests, but these are temporary at best. Katherine's actions showed her to be soft towards the former and Victor is openly an admirer of the latter. I don't require an immediate declaration of war, the current situation would make that unwise... but we must recognise their fundamental hostility and prepare accordingly."

"You want me to tell her that?" asked Jon quietly.

George nodded. "I would very much like a First Prince I can give my full support. Or an Archon-Prince if they can manage that somehow. If House Steiner-Davion can provide such a leader, so much the better. I don't share my grandfather's ambitions for the prince's throne - or desk - but my first loyalty is to my March, not to New Avalon and certainly not to Tharkad."

* * *

Chapter 38

Castle Davion, New Avalon

Crucis March, Federated Commonwealth

12 October 3063

The throne room had seen little damage during the liberation of the castle, Daniel had heard. That damage had been repaired only once more vital concerns were dealt with but there was now no trace of it as more than a thousand nobles and court officials formed loose ranks across the vast chamber.

There was no formal formation upheld in the assembly but so many of the men and women had military backgrounds that without prompting they tended to stand in lines facing towards the throne beneath the great stained glass window at the far end. Hundreds more looked down from seating on side-balconies, forming little clusters on the upholstered benches. Those of higher social or military rank were on the main floor and generally closer towards the front.

The vaulted ceiling was high enough to have housed BattleMechs, but Daniel could see no doors large enough to admit them so presumably the Lyran practise of flanking the throne with a pair would not be followed here. Rather than put himself forward he was standing near the rear of the chamber.

As a result, he was among the first to notice two exceptions entering the room. Yvonne Steiner-Davion was on Tancred Sandoval's arm and the pair declined to advance far from the door.

Only a moment later, the brass section of the royal orchestra announced from their own gallery the arrival of the Vice-Regent.

Catherine Steiner-Davion had made no habit of wearing formal gowns even in court. Instead she wore military-styled pants, bottle-green with a lyran blue seam, and a black blouse. The only ornamentation was a enamelled pendant displaying the Fist and Sunburst of the Federated Commonwealth, suspended on a gold chain.

Reaching the principal throne she bowed her head to it and then stepped aside to the slightly smaller throne to its left. Katrina, Daniel gathered, had used the central throne to indicate she considered herself monarch while Peter - and before him Yvonne - had occupied the right throne as Regents to an absent monarch.

Taking the least of the three thrones was a political message. Although today she did not sit at first.

Another crescendo from the horns admitted another lord. James Sandoval wore full uniform as he stepped onto the red carpet that marked the centre of the chamber and Daniel heard a slight hiss from Tancred.

He turned slightly to look at the royal pair. "I didn't know your father was on New Avalon, Lord Sandoval."

Tancred's eyes flicked to him but it was Yvonne's that widened in recognition. "He has been discreetly here for a few days, Master Holstein." She nudged Tancred forward covertly so they could speak softly without drawing attention to themselves.

"Discreetly?" The young lord kept his voice down but he shook his head. "He was hardly discreet at the negotiations. And the ambassador must have reported so the Combine knows he's here. It's only the court that's unawares."

Daniel frowned at that. The Catherine he knew certainly kept her own counsel but how was that going to work now she was at the least watching over the Federated Suns half of her brother's realm in his absence? "When you say he wasn't discreet?" he murmured, watching the Duke approach the dais at a slow, proud stride.

Tancred folded his arms. "He demanded the restoration of every world lost to the Combine since the end of the Third Succession War as a condition for withdrawing from the occupied worlds."

"What?" The Draconis March had been forced on the defensive in the Fourth Succession War and even victories in 3039 hadn't redressed that. "That's... a dozen worlds?"

"Fourteen. And we only have troops on one of them."

Yvonne pulled Tancred's hand down before he could gesture obviously and laced her fingers through his. "I believe it's a negotiating tactic. He and Catherine can't possibly expect that Theodore would accept such terms."

Trumpets sounded as Duke Sandoval reached the end of the hall, placing both his feet on the first step of the dais before dropping to one knee before the throne. "Princess Catherine," he declared - microphones picking up his words for speakers all around the room. "As Vice-Regent for your brothers I ask that you accept my oath of service to the Federated Commonwealth."

In turn, Catherine stepped forwards and extended her hands 'helping' the burly Field Marshal to rise to his feet. "Duke James, it is my honour to accept that oath from the Duke of Robinson, the Defender of the Draconis March and the Liberator of Marduk."

Daniel blinked and glanced at his companions. Other than a tightening of Tancred's lips they seemed far less shocked than many present. Catherine's words were tantamount to declaring that Marduk - one of the Combine worlds invaded by the Duke - would not be returned to House Kurita.

Although he did not kneel once more, James placed his hands between Catherine's and lowered his head. "I, James Sandoval, pledge my allegiance to the Federated Commonwealth and the House of Steiner-Davion, as represented here by our lawful Vice-Regent and elsewhere by our Regent Peter Steiner-Davion. I swear my commitment to the liberties and the wellbeing of our people, obedience to the Throne and to the Council."

Catherine seemed to hesitate. "And I, Catherine Morgan Steiner..." She paused a moment and then added with emphasis: "Davion, on behalf of my brother and of my house accept your allegiance. To repay your duty with loyalty and your service with respect. In the traditions common to our worlds."

Well at least that was done, Daniel thought drily. Now if George Hasek would make time to attend a formal court and offer the same then the three Marches of the old Federated Suns would be officially united behind Prince Victor... or at least behind Peter and Catherine, which was about the same thing.

He was about to say as much when he saw Yvonne's worried face and wondered if it was. Victor hadn't been mentioned at all.

"It is with pleasure," Catherine continued, as James removed his hands and turned to stand beside her, "That I can inform you that last night, the Combine's ambassador returned a verigraphed signature from Coordinator Kurita, affixed to a treaty ending the fighting between our two nations."

Daniel glanced at Tancred. "Did you know?" he murmured under the cover of the buzz of reactions around the room.

"Yes, but not the terms."

"We're about to find out the key points," Yvonne pointed out. "She's clearly about to tell us."

"Over the next two months our forces on Al Na'ir, An Ting, Matsuida and Proserpina will hand the worlds over to peacekeeping forces provided by the Word of Blake," Catherine declared. "And once we have fully withdrawn, the DCMS will regain control of these worlds. On Marduk, however, all remaining DCMS forces have been ordered to withdraw... and we will permit this. For that world, lost to the Suns more than thirty years ago, is now restored to us, through Duke Sandoval's resolution."

Tancred took a deep breath. "That's not as bad as it could be," he admitted grudgingly. "Both sides can probably live with that... for now."

There was a stony silence from Yvonne and both men looked at her. "Your highness?" Daniel asked cautiously.

"She's opposing Victor's allies," she said at last. "Choosing the Blakists over ComStar - or even mercenaries - to act as peacekeepers - and taking a Combine world."

Her discontent was hardly the pattern though. The voices of those around them seemed favorably inclined towards the agreement and the obvious approval of Duke Sandoval set a seal upon the matter.

Servants circulated, offering glasses and since it would hardly do to oppose the treaty, when Catherine called for a toast to the valour of the Armed Forces in the Draconis March, even Yvonne raised her glass and sipped.

The dais emptied as Catherine was drawn aside by Count DuVall and James Sandoval returned to the main floor, shaking hands with those eager to bask in the reflected glory.

"Master Holstein... Daniel." Yvonne stared at him. "You've spent more time with this Catherine than I've had any chance to. What is she after? What are her goals?"

He frowned in thought. "I don't think we ever discussed anything beyond liberating New Avalon. I assumed she wanted to end the civil war... well, also she was fairly strongly upset by talk of Lyran versus Suns or Davion versus Steiner so... at a guess she wants to repair the divisions between the two halves of the Commonwealth."

"That's hard to argue against," pointed out Tancred. "But also harder to do. The formal union of the thrones lasted only a couple of years before Katrina tore them apart."

"Perhaps she wants to use the Combine as an outside threat that both sides can agree to hate." Yvonne looked unhappy at the thought. "We have enough problems with the Capellans but that's not such an urgent issue to the Lyrans."

"Reuniting the Federated Commonwealth would shake the Star League." Tancred shook his head. "Most of the other lords would be very wary of it." He turned and looked into the crowd. "My father's coming."

A moment later and he was shown to be right as James Sandoval broke through another line of officers and stood facing his son. Both Sandoval stared at each other, heads turning in anticipation of a confrontation.

James was the first to speak. "Your grandfather fell out with his father too. They reconciled in the end, but it took years."

"I suppose strong wills run in the family."

"Yes." There was a twinkle in James' eye. "Mayetta was a defeat but I can't say you did wrong there. You earned respect from those you fought for, and those you fought against. No one blames you for Yalos' ambition." He extended his hand.

After a moment Tancred met it with his own and the two men shook, though there was enough tension in the younger man's shoulders that Daniel suspected the reconciliation might be only skin-deep.

"I'm surprised that you were persuaded to make peace with the Combine."

The duke turned to Yvonne and bowed his head slightly in respect. "Your sister had a convincing argument."

"May I ask...?"

James considered and then tilted his head towards the door. Tancred nodded and Daniel stepped aside as they began to leave the room. However, Yvonne caught his eye and beckoned for him to come with them.

"They're proud enough to quarrel," she murmured - deliberately loud enough for the Sandovals to hear. "But not in front of a guest. And I think your father will want to know the answer as well."

James smiled quite shamelessly at the assertion. "You seem to have found some backbone, princess. I approve. But who might you be, young sir?"

"Daniel Holstein, sir. My father has consulted at NAIS in the past."

"Ah, the dwarf. A clever man. Very well." Either he knew of the Heimdall connections or he simply didn't want to seem ill-informed.

Once out of the court, Yvonne spoke briefly to one of the staff and they were escorted to a small side-room where they could speak in private. Though less impressive than the throne room, Daniel noted that the furniture was still largely antiques and the oil painting on the wall was a minor historical treasure in its own right - the four hundred year old 'Wedding of Guenever Cameron', with the bride's half-brother (and future First Lord of the Star League) flanking the happy couple on one side and a future First Prince, Richard Davion, on the other.

"So how did Catherine persuade you?" asked Tancred.

"Theodore is no fool and he can't win wars on both his borders, so it only makes sense he'll make peace on one - even at a hit to his reputation - and then redeem himself in the eyes of his people with glorious victories against the other."

Yvonne arched an eyebrow. "And between us and Clan Ghost Bear?"

James shrugged. "As little as I like it, the fighting has cost us supplies and soldiers we would need for an extended conflict. Meanwhile, Catherine has information that another Clan, the Hells Horses, are seeking a foothold in the Inner Sphere and will strike at the Ghost Bears. At that point it will be in the Bears' interests to come to terms with Theodore as well - but if he's no longer at war with us then he has the opportunity to bring his full strength to bear - no pun intended - while they cannot do the same."

"And it gives us a chance to rebuild." Tancred nodded.

"But why the Blakists?" asked Daniel. "Why not mercenaries. Or ComStar? Is Catherine leaning towards them. I thought they were fanatics."

"They are," James agreed. "But we know very little of their strength - they have Terra and they have suppliers in the Free Worlds League. Calling on them to take over means we'll get a look at the troops they send and can assess their training and equipment." He made a face. "ComStar's neutrality has been strained already and if we used mercenaries, who would pay them?"

Yvonne shook her head. "Is Catherine looking to ally with Thomas Marik by offering the Word of Blake favour."

"That would be a pretty worthless alliance," the duke said dismissively. "Hadn't you heard? After Catherine's public appearances a lot of houses started doing blood tests to make sure they knew who their own kin were... and an awful lot of Mariks have suddenly begun to distance themselves from the Captain-General. I have to wonder what they found out."

The looks exchanged by Tancred and Yvonne suggested to Daniel that they had a good idea, but neither said anything.

* * *

Chapter 39

Durant, Algol

Capellan March, Federated Commonwealth

14 November 3063

The Fifteenth Deneb Light Cavalry were in full retreat as they entered the canyon.

Not in rout - their heavy 'Mechs were holding together and a guard force of lights and mediums were covering the rear but behind a light scout force there was only a mismatched array of support units and semi-functional combatants.

The first scout lance in was made up of Savannah Master hovercraft - light and agile but without the firepower or armour to survive an unexpected encounter with Crucis company of the Fifth Royal Guards.

Conner still had a working Mackie, although there were only a lance left in the company. His PPC ripped through the flank of one Savannah Master and ripped the reactor apart. He tried not to pay attention to the obviously human fragments that were among the debris left as the little tank came apart.

One of the Savannah Masters managed a tight turn and to escape, autocannon rounds from an Enforcer III chasing after it but not quite connecting.

On New Avalon, Peter had granted the three Davion Guards first pick of the salvage for their own rebuilding but earmarked available units from the military factories on the capital for the Fifth Royal Guards. As a result their average tonnage had plummeted, but so had the age of their 'Mechs.

"This is Baker Lead," Conner heard Searcy declare. "We just smacked their lead elements on the nose."

"Same here," he reported. "Now they know both these routes are plugged, maybe we can get them to stand down."

"Here's hoping."

Conner couldn't help but agree. There were almost a dozen canyons and gullies that the Fifteenth Deneb Light Cavalry could use to get through this part of the Shalom mountain range and Prince Peter had scattered the Fifth Royal Guards in penny packets to hold each of them. There was a reserve if they got pushed but it all depended on each little force holding out long enough to be reinforced.

On the flipside, with the Tenth Lyran Guards and Nineteenth Arcturan Guards behind them, the battered Light Cavalry really had nowhere else to go. They'd lost their dropships trying to ferry the last remnants of the Tikonov Republican Guards and supporting forces out of a similar pocket when FCS Hanse Davion had intercepted the sub-orbital hop. Four dropships had been destroyed - and the rest had surrendered rather than face the same treatment.

"I'll try talking to them," he decided. The loyalists had been intransigent so far but surely they could see the writing on the wall.

With one eye still on his display, Conner picked an open channel that the Light Cavalry should be monitoring. "Captain Sortek calling Deneb Light Cavalry, I repeat, this is Captain Sortek calling the Deneb Light Cavalry. Come in please."

It took three more repetitions before there was a reply. "Sortek, this is Fifteenth DLC. We hear you."

No name, no rank. "We have every pass in the mountains secured, DC. You can't get through and with two RCTs behind you, you can't go back. We both know it's over. The only question is how hard it has to be. Prince Peter is offering generous terms if you surrender."

There was a pause and when the reply came, it was another voice - older and harsher. "Captain Sortek, this is General Burim Jashari. We know the terms he gave the Sixth FedCom, so to put it mildly, you can shove those generous terms up your ass."

What? Who was Jashari? Conner yanked up the Fifteenth Deneb Light Cavalry's command structure on a secondary monitor. "I don't know what you mean, General. I was there when the Sixth surrendered."

"What I mean," the man said angrily. "Is that we have intel saying that several hundred of their personnel got vanished. Not just combatants, but technical staff too. Not dead in combat or interned for trial, just a quiet guilty silence."

Jashari! He found the name at last. Leftenant General commanding the infantry brigade. Fifth in line of command. What had happened to Marshal Lipstein and his other senior staff. "I have no idea what you're talking about," he replied. "If you're thinking they were massacred, you're out of your mind. Do you think my... Ardan Sortek would stand for that?"

"I'm saying it's awfully convenient that the Archon-Princess 'escaped' New Avalon and hasn't been seen since. You may be a Sortek, Captain, but Ardan Sortek is dead."

Conner stared at the screen. Seismic sensors were picking up movement outside the canyon mouth. Magscan showed the same. What was going on inside Jashari's head, what was he…? Oh!

"You damn fool, Jashari," he half-shouted. "The Sixth's personnel didn't get disappeared! They're right here on Algol - you're talking about the soldiers who joined Fifth Royal Guards!"

"...I can't believe you think I'm that gullible," the infantryman replied and there was a sharp click.

"Jashari!" Nothing. "Jashari!" Had he cut the comm line?

"Fast movers coming in!" warned Stephens and started backing his Fireball away from the mouth of the canyon. The light 'Mech had pulled back only a few yards when the first LRMs started to land.

Hover tanks were in the lead again, this time Maxim hover transports that must be carrying some of Jashari's infantry. That didn't make them less deadly, they outmassed some of the Royal Guard 'Mechs and mounted several missile launchers.

Nor were they slowing down as they entered the canyon dangerously fast. One mis-calculated and clipped the side of the entrance. It flipped over more than once before coming to rest upside down - Conner didn't want to think about what that must have done to the infantry inside.

The pass lit with fire as Conner's troops opened up on the Maxims. He saw the covers flip open on Jaq Hamer's Dervish's missile launchers. The woman - inevitably nicknamed Jackhammer - fired a full alpha strike into one of the Maxims right as it passed through the optimum two hundred metre range.

The hovercraft was wreathed in smoke for a moment by the missile explosions before it emerged and, perhaps unintentionally, swept one leg out from under the Dervish. Fifty-five tons of 'Mech landed on top of the hover tank and grounded it abruptly.

"Crucis Lead to command, we're being attacked!" Conner shouted into the Royal Guards command channel. His autocannon spun up, shots trailing after a frantically weaving Maxim. "They're trying to break through. We've got Maxims swarming over us and -"

Stephen's Fireball came to an abrupt halt as something hit the fleet little 'Mech dead centre. The Fireball toppled backwards onto the ground, a visible hole punched into its chest.

"And now 'Mechs," Conner added as the Hollander that had fired the killing shot loped deeper into the canyon, its long-barrelled gauss rifle tracking towards Conner's Mackie.

Before it could fire again he opened up with his PPC and medium lasers, firing each in succession and seeing already scarred armour breaking open under the weight of his fire.

The gauss rifle discharged, but the shot was low and only smashed armour over his Mackie's left thigh.

Teeth drawn back, Conner fired his LB 10-X autocannon and the sub-munitions scattered across the front of the thirty-five ton 'Mech. There was an explosion inside the Hollander and the targeting systems outlined its right torso - including the gauss rifle - as non-functional. The way the right arm hung limp was likely evidence of that.

Apparently undaunted, the Hollander's mechwarrior rushed his 'Mech forwards, letting other 'Mechs follow him in, and tried to close in on Ben Hutchins' Osiris.

Conner saw Hutchins twist away, twisting his SRM launcher to keep it on target long enough to punish the Hollander for its aggression and judged that the man had it under control.

"Understood, Crucis Lead." Peter's voice on the comms was masked briefly by an explosion. "They're hitting us at five points, our reinforcements are on the way."

A Valkyrie and a Commando followed the Hollander in, and behind them something Conner's targeting computer struggled to pin down, flicking from Cataphract to Caesar and back until it finally grudgingly concluded it was the latter but using armour plating intended for the former. Not impossible, the two designs were very similar and battlefield repair sometimes required corners to be cut.

The Caesar's pulse lasers stitched a line of holes down the frontal armour of Conner's Mackie as it twisted to try to bring the waist-level gauss rifle around to bear. the move didn't quite work out as planned, for the delay gave Greg Huntington's Argus time to line up its own shot from the Rotary Autocannon mounted in one arm. Unprepared for the shocking weight of fire, the Caesar staggered, trying to compensate for the beating.

In turn, Conner fired his PPC and then his autocannon at the battered armour, his shots hitting just as Huntingdon ceased fire - the cursing on the company frequency suggesting he'd done so due to the autocannon jamming.

Unfortunately the Caesar's gauss rifle hadn't been taken out and it slammed into the Argus' arm right below the autocannon, probably removing any chance of getting the gun back into service without a technical team.

Undaunted, Huntington kept moving in, lighting up the Commando with his medium lasers. The light 'Mech turned on one heel, avoiding most of the shots but slowing to turn was its undoing as a rain of missiles descended from further back in the canyon where a lance of Eleventh Markab Panzer LRM Carriers were dug in.

Almost a ton of munitions descended on the Light Cavalry Commando and what emerged from explosions was a skeletal framework of a 'Mech. Pathetically, it raised its right arm towards the Argus and tried to fire the missile launcher in the forearm. To no one's surprise except possibly the pilot's, not a single tube fired.

Huntington's next shot blew out one knee and the Commando hit the ground, the outstretched right arm snapping like a dry twig as it met the canyon floor.

The Caesar wasn't focusing on the Argus any more and its Extended Range PPC raked along the right arm of Conner's Mackie. Not yet feeling the heat, Conner replied with his own ER PPC and added laser and autocannon fire to the mix, sending the other 'Mech - only two-thirds the size - staggering backwards.

With a cry of frustration at the Deneb Light Cavalry's stubbornness, Conner drove his Mackie forwards, face to face with the Caesar and lashed out with one large leg, cracking the plating over his target's shin.

Already off balance the Caesar crashed down onto its back, legs kicking wildly and ineffectually.

Conner started down, crosshairs centring by instinct on the cockpit glass... and then with deliberate effort he shifted his sights down and towards the gauss rifle, firing again.

Sparks flew from inside the Caesar as his autocannon ripped into the interior. His infrared display showed a surge towards red and then white before the heavy 'Mech's reactor shut down.

With a deep breath he looked around but there was nothing else to fight. The Valkyrie was down and if any of the Maxims had got past then they were out of view.

"Is everyone okay?" he asked, checking his company.

Voices chimed in and it quickly became clear the only 'Mech entirely out of action was Stephens' Fireball.

While fast, the little 'Mech had little in the way of armament or armour. Once shots penetrated its ammunition bins, all Stephens had been able to do was eject - and if he'd been any slower he would have been torn apart in the same way as his 'Mech.

The ejection seat had come down near one of the less damaged of the DLC's Maxim hover transports and Huntington had moved up to point his machinegun at the disgruntled infantry who'd escaped the wrecked hovertank, warning them off from trying anything against the Royal Guards' mechwarrior.

One of the soldiers glared up defiantly at the Argus, not letting go of the rifle in her hands.

"Fire then!" she challenged Huntington. "We know your prince had no mercy on the Sixth FedCom, we don't expect any now."

Conner was about to correct her when Huntington's voice cut in. "Sir, can you cover me while I set her straight?"

"Go right ahead, sergeant." He positioned his Mackie next to the Argus and saw the heavy 'Mech lock its limbs.

A moment later the hatch popped open and Huntington dropped a rope ladder down. He descended quickly, the shaking of the ladder showing his anger as it made each movement jerky.

Once on the ground, Huntington stalked over to the infantrywoman. "You have something to say about the Sixth FedCom?"

She nodded sharply. "Your prince massacred them. Everyone knows that."

"Really?" He pointed at his arm. Focusing a camera, Conner saw the tigers head tattooed just below the shoulder. Like most mechwarriors, Huntington's cooling vest left his arms bare. "You know what this is?"

"A tiger?"

"It's the badge of the Sixth FedCom RCT, you idiot," Huntington shouted in anger. "The Prince didn't massacre us, he recruited us!"

"What...? But... Your names just vanished from the rosters. That's what our intel said."

The Royal Guardsman shook his head. "Our names were withheld in case your damned Archon decided to go after our families. Blake's blood, don't any of you stop to think?"

"That's enough, Sergeant," Conner cut in over his loudspeakers. He focused his camera on the woman's rank tabs. "And you, corporal, lay down that rifle. We have infantry coming to collect you... but if you're still armed then the Prince's amnesty for surrendering personnel won't apply."

"What if I don't?" she asked stubbornly, although she lowered the rifle.

"The amnesty only covers any allegations of treason. Not the results of criminal stupidity."


	7. Federated Commonwealth

Part Seven - Federated Commonwealth

_And it's been two years I miss my home_

_But there's a fire burning in my bones_

_Still believe_

_Yeah, I still believe_

Chapter 40

Aswan, Caph

Draconis March, Federated Commonwealth

13 February 3064

Caph was one of humanity's first extra-solar colonies and it had been one of the core worlds of the Terran Hegemony and by extension of the Star League. As the Star League fell, Caph had been left brutally scarred by fighting between Kerensky's and Amaris' forces... and then again as House Liao, House Kurita and House Davion fought over it.

Two of the world's three continents were no longer habitable, but from the vibrant capital city it was hard to imagine that. The thriving metropolis rivalled Avalon City for size and sophistication. Even the relatively sudden end of their brief independence within the Chaos March didn't seem to phase most of the populace.

Peter's temporary residence had been used by Caph's militia until Marshal Orsina had brought the Fourth Davion Guards Regimental Combat Team across the Lyran Alliance and reconquered the world in the name of the Federated Suns. There were various reasons Peter had decided not to argue with the terminology, including but not limited to the fact that Caph provided a perfect jumping off point for his task force to cross back into Lyran space.

It was also part of the immense double-chain of HPG stations that enabled two-way real-time contact between Tharkad and New Avalon and the holo display of his suite lighting up drew his attention away from the skyline of Aswan and towards two women sharing a couch, hundreds of light years away. "Yvonne, Catherine, how are you?"

Each was sat against one arm, leaving a sizeable separation, he noticed as they both greeted him with smiles. "We're doing well, of course," Yvonne assured him. "Catherine has even managed to persuade George Hasek to make a formal statement of support."

Peter grinned. Finally! He'd been worrying about the March Lord's continued intransigence. "How did you manage that, Cat?"

"I can hardly take credit," his blonde sister said quietly. "I think your efforts on Algol and Acamar were what swayed him. I heard about the casualties there."

That soured the mood immediately. The Fifth Royal Guards had lost more than a dozen mechwarriors between the fighting on those two worlds, and twice that many of their 'Mechs had had to be left behind for major repairs or even to be scrapped.

"It was less the enemy's ferocity than some carelessness," he said harshly. "I should have made sure they were more adjusted to using lighter 'Mechs that couldn't simply bull through enemy fire the way our Mackie II's used to." He'd had to keep the Royal Guards in reserve on Epsilon Indi, although fortunately the arrival of two additional RCTs had left no need to commit them - the Davion Light Guards and Fifth Davion Guards were holding the recovered worlds until formal garrison forces could become available.

"I don't believe that that's all of the answer, Catherine," Yvonne said mildly. "But it did help and it's probably why he agreed to contribute to our belated birthday present for you."

Peter blinked. He'd turned twenty-nine at the start of the month but it had hardly registered except for one evening drinking with his company commanders. "I wasn't really expecting you to send me anything."

"Consider it a joint gift from Duke Sandoval, Duke Hasek and the two of us," his younger sister told him. "The Glowworm should have reached Caph's jump point yesterday by command circuit along with your other supplies from Addicks."

"Yes... I think they did." He frowned in concentration. "Why?"

"In addition to twelve fully reconditioned Mackie IIs - quality checked to Daniel Holstein's personal satisfaction - she's carrying twelve Templar OmniMechs and twelve Sagittaires to join the Fifth Royal Guards." Catherine smiled a little more sincerely. "Hopefully some of those less suited to lighter rides can now be back in their comfort zone."

He grinned and rubbed his jaw. "You know exactly what I want." A full battalion of assault 'Mechs would do wonders for the Royal Guards' strength.

"Well we were hoping to give you Kath-rina." Yvonne caught herself at the last moment and glanced guiltily at Catherine before continuing. "But we have no news of her. Just two unconfirmed sightings of the Lucien Davion."

"Two? I heard about Marlette -" A merchant jumpship had reported picking up a warship in the outer system - which could be a mistake of course. "But where else?"

"Similarly tenuous. The DCMS claim an Avalon-class cruiser was recharging at Styx - but they aren't sharing their sensor data so it could just be posturing over losing Marduk. I don't think Theodore Roosevelt would play such games but he has many subordinates."

"Kurita," Yvonne corrected her, with an air that suggested she was growing used to it.

"Pardon?"

"You said Theodore Roosevelt."

"Oh." Catherine frowned in irritation at herself. "Yes. My bad."

"It's plausible," Peter noted, pretending to ignore Catherine's lapse. "If Katrina is headed for Tharkad then Styx is the sort of backwater system she might be able to get away with passing through - although Draconis space might be risky it avoids any chance of running into my forces here in the Chaos March."

"The surprise is that she hasn't contacted ComStar somewhere to have them send messages to try to stabilise her support. Losing New Avalon is bad for her but she could have mitigated it by remaining visible."

Yvonne nodded in agreement with Catherine. "Tancred's still got some hot spots to deal with but with the March Lords supporting us, all the key industrial and command worlds look securely with us in the Federated Suns. Nondi can't say the same for the Lyran Alliance. There's not a day that goes by without news of another riot somewhere or fighting."

"If she's losing control then this could be the end of the beginning ."

"The beginning of the end perhaps." Peter glanced at Catherine and saw Yvonne doing the same - was she slipping like this so often? That probably didn't look good to the public. "Have you been able to get an idea of what forces she can rely on?"

"It's hard to pin down for sure, but a lot of regiments are finding reasons that they need to stay on their base worlds to cover the border and deal with the local conflicts." Yvonne pursed her lips. "She can count on the Royal Guards, of course, and it looks like the four remaining Jaeger units are in her pocket still."

The Coventry Jaegers had attacked Victor's ally, Duke Bradford, on Coventry itself last year. While the Duke's own forces had been crushed by the Jaegers, Victor's arrival had saved him and secured Coventry Metal Works to help supply the allied forces in the Lyran Alliance. The Jaegers had taken months to destroy though - like Katrina's forces on Algol, very few had been willing to surrender.

"The good news is that her hold on Skye has almost entirely collapsed," added Catherine optimistically. "The Skye Jaegers aside, the Skye Rangers seem to be paying more attention to Robert Kelswa-Steiner than Nondi. That's a problem in and of itself, but Caesar Steiner arrived in the region and swung all the Donegal Guards RCTs present - including the three that were on this side of Terra - over to our side. He can squash Robert flat if he tries anything."

"That's great news - what about Hesperus II?" Almost entirely unpopulated, Hesperus II was home to the largest 'Mech factories in the Inner Sphere, heavily fortified and guarded by at least two Regimental Combat Teams.

"As far as we can tell, all three units there taking the position that securing Defiance Industries for the Lyran Alliance is more important than holding it for either side - they'll fight if attacked, but unless we do that then we can discount the Fifteenth and Thirty-Sixth Lyran Guards, the Gray Death Legion and FCS Simon Davion."

"I can't say they're wrong," Peter agreed. The Simon Davion was a sister ship to his own flagship, the Hanse Davion. There were other warships in Skye Province, but without the Avalon-class cruiser they'd be hard-pressed to threaten him. "If Caesar is on Skye, I should be able to join up with him there and then we can pincer Tharkad between us and Victor."

His sisters exchanged glances and his heart sank. "What?"

"Victor is already moving on Tharkad," Yvonne told him. "He's leaving Coventry today."

Peter blinked. "But... he's only got..." He thought a moment. "Okay, five Regimental Combat Teams and some supporting units... that's more than we had on New Avalon, but he'll have more opposition than we had to deal with."

Catherine nodded. "I know. And four of them are from this side of the Commonwealth - he only has two Lyran units with him - the Seventeenth Donegal Guards and Archer's Avengers. Nondi may not be the sharpest political mind but even she can spin this in line with Katrina's Davion versus Steiner..." She searched for a word and settled on: "Ideology."

Sitting back, Peter activated his noteputer and checked his files. "Aunt Nondi's logical recourse is to bring in the task force she's been assembling to go after Coventry. With only the Eleventh Arcturan Guards and two Provincial Militias it's far from large enough to handle Victor's forces alone but added to the two Royal Guards RCTs on Tharkad, it can probably buy time for her to try to sway other units or to bring in the Jaegers."

"All three of the Royal Guards RCTs," Yvonne corrected him. "We've had confirmation that the Third Royal Guards aren't headed for Dalkeith after all - they're on the way to Tharkad and they'll beat Victor there."

"Then the numbers are close to even, and Aunt Nondi has the defensive advantage. What's Victor thinking? Given a couple more months we could combine our forces."

His youngest sister looked pensive. "His messages suggest he's concerned about Katrina. She could have reached Tharkad by now and if she hasn't then it could happen any time. He wants to take Tharkad before she can take the reins once more - just her presence would bolster her cause significantly."

Peter uttered a curse under his breath. "What's she going to do that Nondi can't? She's no general."

"She's also outmaneuvered Victor repeatedly," Catherine said quietly. "On the political battlefield, yes, but that's all the more deadly. We can't afford to underestimate her."

There was a long pause and then the prince rubbed his jaw. "Okay. I can't wait any longer then. The Davion Guards can stay in the Terran Corridor to secure a supply route back to Addicks - bringing them into the Lyran Alliance was always going to be inflammatory, even if the Fourth were willing to go back there."

"So you're moving now?"

Peter nodded. "We have three warships - that should be enough to deal with the two corvettes in Skye if they side with Nondi. Since Uncle Caesar is keeping Skye pacified I should be able to cross it quickly and reinforce Victor. If he can win, great. But if he can't then he should be able to hang on long enough for me to arrive."

"As long as you don't get defeated in detail," Catherine warned.

"I'd have to make some pretty major mistakes for that to happen," he told her confidently. "I've got the Pride of the Federated Commonwealth with me, after all."

Yvonne smiled, but she shook her head. "You know what goeth before a fall, Peter."

"Oh I know. But seriously. Between the Pride, four Regimental Combat Teams and two other 'Mech regiments -" the Tenth Lyran Guards, Twentieth Avalon Hussars, Nineteenth Arcturan Guards, First Ceti Hussars, Third Lyran Regulars and First Federated Suns Armored Cavalry "- Nondi would have to bring everything else she has together in one place to stop us."

"Or warships."

Peter paused and acknowledged the point. "Okay, yes. But she'd have to send those covering Tharkad to match ours and with Victor on the way, she can't afford that."

"It's still a risk."

He nodded soberly. "But Victor's forced our hand with his own risk. If Katrina returns and Victor gets himself killed, she could very well consolidate her position as Archon and regain control of the Alliance. She's had years longer to dig in there. If that goes on..."

The three Steiner-Davions looked at each other, each seeing the same determination in their siblings.

"You'd better wake up your staff then," Catherine said at last. "Good luck, Peter."

Peter nodded and closed the channel. When he looked out of the window, Caph's star was low in the sky, a brilliant sunburst over Aswan's towering buildings. The sight reminded him of the sunburst that formed half of the Federated Commonwealth's heraldry and he raised his hand before it in a fist, completing the image.

"Time," he said to himself. "Ask me for anything but time."

* * *

Chapter 41

Castle Davion, New Avalon

Crucis March, Federated Commonwealth

24 March 3064

Yvonne got a nod from Catherine's secretary - a woman pulled from the palace's general secretarial pool back when Catherine was just a newly arrived member of the royal family and less than two months later had found herself running the office of the effective head of state - and entered the main office without knocking.

It was her - their - father's office once, then Victor's... and Katherine had been using it as well, something that still elicited a shiver from the youngest Steiner-Davion. Who was Katherine really? For that matter, where was she?

"Catherine? Your secretary said you weren't doing anything urgent."

While the face behind the desk was still unnervingly familiar, the much shorter hair thankfully provided an obvious signifier that this wasn't the ousted blonde but the one Peter vouched for. And, Yvonne realised with a touch of judgmentalism, one who'd been doing a fairly good job of not just holding things together in Peter's absence but tying up the wounds of the war.

"Not urgent," Catherine agreed. She pushed her chair away, looking away from the documents being projected into the air in front of her by a holo-projector was cunningly concealed in the wooden desk. "Just reviewing reports from the Colonelcy Board."

"The what now?"

Lips curled, Catherine clarified: "General Abrams' board - the rank reviews?"

"Oh yes. Why do you call it that?"

"I didn't, FNS are calling it that. Presumably because we're formally reinstating the rank of Colonel."

Yvonne nodded in understanding. "I never understood why that was thrown out when the LCAF and AFFS merged - it was one of the few ranks they had in common, wasn't it?" She went to one of the couches in the office and put one hand on the back in silent invitation.

Catherine pushed back her chair. "I blame Seattle," she said as she walked around the desk, not explaining the cryptic response.

They sat facing each other and the younger sister hesitated before asking: "Have you thought about the future?"

The smile on Catherine's lips was self-deprecating. "Just a bit." She spread her arms and wiggled her fingers to indicate the breath of that 'bit'. "Time is a fire in which we burn, Yvonne."

"Are you being morbid or...?"

"It sounded better in my head." The blonde smiled a little sadly. "What scale are you contemplating the future of?"

Yvonne leant back and eyed the other woman. "The future of the Federated Commonwealth and the Star League."

"It's entirely possible that neither has very much of a future," Catherine told her immediately.

"...you say that so easily."

"The Star League exists because it benefits all of the members. It's a purely voluntary association... and it was to a very large degree driven by the threat of the Clans. Victor, Theodore and..." She hesitated. "Mansdottir, are all concerned by that. Katrina should have been, but... Katrina. Thomas Marik and Sun-Tzu Liao have no direct stake in those threats - I suspect Thomas was pressured by the Word of Blake since they have an ideological opposition to the Clans. Sun-Tzu just didn't want to be the one left out."

"The Clans are still there, aren't they?"

"Yes... but not as a unified force. Actually, I think they're going to face some very... interesting conflicts between themselves, but that's getting away from the point." Catherine considered and then shrugged. "Overall, Clan Ghost Bear are the strongest of the Clans right now - the Wolves and Jade Falcons are still weakened by their war seven years ago and other conflicts since. But the Draconis Combine is fighting the Bears fairly effectively right now, and with little to no outside help. The Clans are no longer the menace they once were."

"And without an outside threat, you think the Star League will break up - the way the Allies of World War II did once the Cold War broke out?"

"That's an awful historical parallel, but not entirely inaccurate," Catherine said with a wince. "Right now, the Star League is missing its primary focus and without another that we can all agree on, it will be of reduced influence. It didn't exactly do anything about our recent war with the Combine and Theodore is the First Lord."

Yvonne nodded slowly. "Where does that take us, back to the Succession Wars?"

"Well not the early ones, at least I hope not. Although the technology for that level of savagery is more available now that it has been - warship fleets, for example. If someone starts breaking out the canned sunshine -"

The term got a blink and then a snicker from Yvonne, who fought it down just a little too late.

Her sister gave her an arched eyebrow and then wry smile. "Not a term to use in public, I confess. But yes. The Star League may have value as a restraint but if two or three of the major powers withdrew then it might collapse entirely."

"There wouldn't be many members left in that case," Yvonne pointed out and then paused. "Unless others joined it... but the Periphery was never interested and all the states in the Inner Sphere are members. Except the Word of Blake - have they contacted you?"

"I may be reading too much into it."

"Do you think that it would be wise? They're fanatics in Myndo Waterly's mould." Yvonne shivered, recalling how the former Primus had attempted to seize control of the entire Inner Sphere in the wake of the Battle of Tukkayid. The youngest Steiner-Davion had been only thirteen years old, but she remembered how her parents had been forced to divert resources to neutralise the plot after it was leaked by a Combine spy inside Waterly's inner circle.

Catherine leant forwards. "Keep your friends close, Yvonne, and your enemies closer."

"Ah." She shook her head though, still discomforted by the recollection. "And when it comes to the Federated Commo-"

Yvonne was cut off by a chime from the intercom. "Excuse me, your highness." The secretary's voice was cool and professional. "Count Allard and his grandson are here on what they advise is urgent business.

Catherine turned her hands palm up and shrugged. "Count Allard's judgement is usually sound. As is his grandson's." She went to the door of the office and returned a moment later with Quintus Allard and Quintus Allard-Liao, both looking grave.

"It's not news of your family, I hope?" Yvonne greeted them.

Quintus the younger shook his head. "No, your highness. So far as we're aware, my mother and siblings are well, other than being constrained to remain on Sian. The news is from somewhat further afield."

The sisters exchanged glances. "I think we're braced for the worst," Catherine said slowly.

"Our sources from the Lyran Alliance have pinned down the troop movements we've been concerned about," the Count informed them. "Unfortunately, it is as we feared - the redeployments to deal with the unrest were merely a cover for reinforcing Tharkad's defenses."

"It's not really a surprise. None of the worlds affected are as critical as the capital."

Yvonne called to mind the situation on Tharkad when she'd last been briefed. Although the forces were approximately equal in strength, Victor had used Nondi's need to maintain a grip on the capital to his advantage and landed on the smaller continents of Heidelberg and Franze. With local superiority they'd been overrun with relative ease, providing a foothold for the Allies from which Victor planned to move to Bremen, the planet's largest continent and the location of the Triad.

"How bad is it?" she asked the Allards.

"The timing was very bad." Quintus Allard's lined face showed more resolve than it did sympathy. "The orbitals had remained contested and Victor's warships were focused on protecting the Bremen landings until too late. Both of the corvettes on loan from Phelan Kell were damaged trying to hold off LAS Yggdrasil and her escorts, although we believe one of Nondi's corvettes has been almost crippled. As a result, loyalist commands were able to set down on Heidelberg and overrun Victor's supply bases there."

Catherine rubbed her forehead. "What strength are they in?"

Quintus opened his noteputer and gave the contents a cursory glance. "The Donegal Jaegers and two regimental combat teams: the Third Lyran Guards and the Third Donegal Guards."

"So Victor's lost his supply base and he's outnumbered?" Yvonne gripped the arm of the couch. "Are there no reinforcements we can send?"

"Unfortunately, while many of the LAAF forces have shifted away from directly support of your sister during her continuing absence, very few are willing to support your brother either. And the exceptions are faced by other concerns."

"Robert Kelswa," Yvonne spat.

Catherine nodded. "Duchess Aten still hasn't woken from her coma and with her eldest daughter dead, that leaves Skye effectively in the hands of Robert and Hermione. Even if we wanted to risk moving troops away, by the time Caesar reorganised jumpships for it, Peter would be there with his task force."

"Can't Morgan Kell do anything?"

Quintus Jr. shook his head. "The Jade Falcons are mustering their forces. While it's tempting to think they're going to turn on Clan Wolf, it seems more likely that their Khan sees this as her last opportunity to blood troops against us before the Civil War is won. As a result, the Arc-Royal Defense Cordon can't spare any significant forces. With two warships and a battalion of the Kell Hounds already on Tharkad, they they can't afford to send more."

"It could be worse though."

They all looked at Catherine. "While it always could get worse, your highness, do you have something specific in mind?" asked the Count.

"The Twenty-Fourth Lyran Guards are on Donegal, only a jump away from Tharkad," she pointed out. "They could have been easily brought in and we've been assuming they were loyal to Nondi. Peter Riskind and Sabine Steiner are a formidable command team, but if they're still on Donegal then Victor may not need to face them."

Allard nodded. "You're correct, and we have no indications that they're preparing to move."

"If Sabine isn't moving to support her grandmother," - Sabine was their second cousin and one of Nondi Steiner's grandchildren - "then I have to wonder why."

Catherine shrugged. "Possibly she sees the writing on the wall - or possibly Riskind is forcing neutrality on her. He might have had to detain her in the latter case..."

"There is a third possibility," pointed out the youngest Allard-Liao. "She would hardly be the first Steiner to harbour political ambitions and she's very close to the throne - arguably the best outside you Steiner-Davions, should her mother and grandmother be discounted."

"Another would-be Katrina Steiner," Yvonne noted sourly, recalling that Sabine's military acumen had been likened to the former Archon.

"A better one than the last." Catherine made a face. "Not my first choice, or my second, but if it comes to a compromise then she might be one we can live with."

"A compromise where the Federated Commonwealth is no more."

Catherine spread her hands. "Not my first or second choice."

* * *

Chapter 42

New Glasgow, Skye

Skye Province, Lyran Alliance

21 April 3064

Skye was... interesting. In the Capellan sense of the word.

Peter had visited the Ducal Palace, paying respects to Hermione Aten - who seemed increasingly likely to be the Duchess as her mother's coma continued. Her husband Robert had been 'unavoidably detained' elsewhere but the youngest Aten had made pointed comments about how she and Robert had both lost parents to terrorism.

It was more than likely, Peter thought, that she was on the entirely too long list of people that knew that Victor had had Robert's father Ryan assassinated in retaliation for the murder of Galen Cox. Of course, for all those who knew it to be true, virtually everyone with a nose for politics suspected it.

"It's a terrible shame about Margaret," his host told him, offering him a glass.

"I'm not sure I should be drinking," he told Caesar Steiner, but accepted it anyway.

"It's not a cure to everything, but it eases the pain of dealing with the littlest Aten." His distant uncle sipped his glass judiciously. "Some of Kell's people very nearly got her and Ilse out, but the Skye security thought they were in on it and in the confusion..." He shrugged. "Poor communication kills."

"Yes." The contents of the glass were smooth, probably deceptively so, Peter thought. Wetting his lips more than once might not be wise. "On the other hand, if they hadn't been there then all three Atens could have been killed."

"A mixed blessing. Robert's in this Free Skye thing up to his neck, but he's as wily as his father so we can't pin it on him. And whatever he does, don't believe for a moment that Hermione isn't in it with him. They're two of a kind."

"I'd rather come to the same conclusion." He set his glass down. "And the Skye Rangers all rushed back here so I assume that they'll fall in with Kelswa-Steiner if it comes to it."

"Almost certainly," Caesar agreed without hesitation. "If that happens I'll wipe out the entire brigade - but that won't do anything for public opinion."

"A possibility best avoided - but of course that means I can't take you with me to Tharkad."

The older man shook his head. "I'm sure Reinhart will uphold the family honour." His son commanded the BattleMech regiment of the Tenth Lyran Guards. "I thought you were bringing one of the Ceti Hussar RCTs as well?"

"Some of the jumpships needed repairs - nothing serious but we've been pushing them fairly hard shuffling units - so I left them behind. Since we have the opportunity, I told Marshal Lamont to see if he could secure other worlds within the Chaos March. We need the Terran corridor re-established if the Federated Commonwealth is to have any future."

"You believe that it does?"

Peter considered the man asking the question seriously and nodded. "I believe both halves have benefited a great deal from it. One of the things that Katrina used to try to discredit Victor's rule after 3057 was the economic problems in the Suns. Granted, she exaggerated some of those issues, and others resulted from her sitting on much of the military jumpship fleet, forcing Victor to lean more heavily on civilian shipping..."

"I'm familiar."

"Yes. But at root, both sides of the Federated Commonwealth saw reduced economic growth after the Alliance seceded. The Lyran manufacturers profited from the markets of the Suns and access to Lyran production stabilised those markets, letting the Suns diversify in ways they hadn't for centuries."

Caesar grunted. "Money talks, I'll give you that. But politics is more about emotion and your sister has stirred that up good and proper."

"I know. The damage she's done to relations between both halves won't be made right easily - but at the same time, that gulf still isn't as wide as it once was, not when my parents chose to bridge it for the first time."

"Civil war can be polarising. It may be wider than you think."

Peter rubbed his chin. "Is that what Victor's thinking?"

"I couldn't say."

Slumping back into his chair, Peter looked across the table at the general. "Where do you stand?"

"I'm here, aren't I?"

"Right." He sighed. "Do you need anything to help hold Skye together?"

"I wouldn't say no to another regiment or two, but it's been worse."

Peter nodded decisively. "The Third NAIS Cadre is made up of heavy and assault 'Mechs. I'll detach them to reinforce you - if nothing happens then they'll get to broaden their horizons here on Skye. and if the worst does, you'll have a heavy unit to complement the Second Donegal Guards."

Caesar tossed back the rest of his drink. "A bunch of green cadets? Alright, I'll take it. If nothing else, those fresh-faced kids'll look good on the holos."

"If we can win this battle with PR instead of guns, then so much the better. We're going to need all our firepower when the Jade Falcons move."

"You're sure they will?"

"They're more vultures than birds of prey. Katrina was useless against them five years ago, and now we throw a civil war into the mix... Everything I've heard about them makes it just a matter of time."

"And the SLDF isn't likely to join us - Theodore Kurita isn't calling on them against the Ghost Bears, so he's unlikely to let them fight the Jade Falcons for us." Caesar had been the Lyran liaison to the SLDF since it was reformed and remained well informed, even now.

Peter set his own glass down. "Which is a problem in and of itself. But one we'll need to deal with another day."

"Yes, taking care of Nondi and the Falcons will take both hands." Caesar's eyes narrowed. "You've still got enough forces to tip the balance on Tharkad, but there's no knowing if Victor will still be alive when you get there."

"I couldn't swear that he's alive now." Peter glanced out the window and then back. "Unless your news is more current than mine."

"He was alive two days ago, when he tried to come down on the Triad from the north. I think if your great-aunt had killed or captured him, she'd have let everyone know that. It'd be a blow - no offense, but you don't have as much of a reputation as your brother. Yet."

"That assumes she knows. But someone pulled the Prince's Men back in good order, so here's hoping."

Without his supply bases, Victor had been operating a mobile campaign across the northern ice fields of Bremen. So far Nondi had been content to keep a strong garrison with her at the Triad - the three Royal Guards RCTs, that had stalled the attack on the 19th - while General Esteban hunted for Victor's task force with other regiments.

"Assuming what she has said is true though," Peter continued, "He's taken losses - serious losses. And I doubt he has the supplies to rebuild from it."

"Much like Bishop Sortek's position then," Caesar said with a smile and offered Peter a topping up before filling his own glass for a second time.

* * *

Chapter 43

The Triad, Tharkad

Donegal Province, Lyran Alliance

30 May 3064

Searcy was glad to be free of the city streets as he marched his Sagittare up the slopes towards the Triad.

Behind them, entirely too many of Tharkad City's broad avenues were clogged by smashed tanks and broken BattleMechs, buildings with scarcely an intact window and many with ruptured walls or even roofs.

Some of his company complained about it being Avalon City all over again, but to Michael Searcy it could only recall Solaris and that - in hindsight - dreadful August week after he and Vandergriff had crashed into the stands at the Colosseum and ignited a firestorm. God, it was closer to two years than one now.

The Robinson-built Sagittaire was a far cry from the increasingly wartorn Mackie he'd used in the Federated Suns. Five tons heavier - slower on the ground but it boasted jump-jets, which were a crucial advantage in the city. Out here, as the towering political heart of the Lyran Alliance loomed in front of them... well, it would help.

So would the cold. The outside temperature was dropping as night came on. Despite the warmth of his fusion reactor, Searcy shivered at the stark landscape. "Are you sure you want to push on, boss?" he asked on a private channel. "Tomorrow, we'd have more 'Mechs ready - and your brother would have caught up."

"It's tempting," Peter Steiner-Davion admitted in a voice that betrayed more fatigue than he'd shown in the briefing session earlier. "But it also gives them longer to make repairs and assemble stragglers." Then, voice steely: "I want this done, Michael."

"Your Royal Guards against Nondi Steiner's."

"It seems that that's how it must be."

It was about all that was left to Nondi's hard core of loyalists. Maria Esteban's command - her own Eleventh Arcturan Guards and militia from Alarion and Carlisle had done their best to relieve the Third Lyran Guards and the Donegal Jaegers as they hung onto the spaceport, but numbers - and fresh mechwarriors not worn down by weeks of battles - had told. Esteban had offered her surrender to General Gloria Bishop's Nineteenth Arcturan Guards - the sister regiment giving assurances of fair treatment.

The advance into Tharkad City had been blunted, then stalled as the Royal Guards sallied forth. Searcy could still see the carnage if he closed his eyes - a Demolisher II tank had blocked up Baker Company for twenty minutes, hull down in a parking garage, until their own armour had caught up and rooted it out. He was four 'Mechs down as a result. Three of the mechwarriors hadn't made it out.

"Do we have intel on what she has left?"

"A little better than two battalions - mostly First and Second Royal Guards. Reinhart Steiner tells me that less than a company of the Third Royals made it out of the city, and I believe him," Peter advised.

"So about our numbers," Searcy thought out loud. Nondi could still command the Third Donegal Guards in theory, but they'd been holding back what was left of Victor's forces alone all day - and the Federated Suns Armored Cavalry had been sent after their rear area so they were in no position to affect matters tonight. "A fair fight."

Peter's voice was as cold as the frost outside. "Fair or foul, we must win."

"Then we shall," Searcy offered in assurance they both knew was false.

There was nothing subtle about the advance and Nondi responded in kind. The outermost perimeter of the Triad was nothing more than a wire fence and cameras to keep out trespassers and the press. The space between that fence and the walls with the real defenses was an open killing ground and the Fifth Royal Guards' light and medium 'Mechs fell behind a wedge of heavy and assault machines as turrets began to open fire.

Only moments later, Royal Guards' Mechs - their colours identical to those of the Fifth - surged out to meet them.

Searcy saw Crucis Company drive forward to meet a loyalist spearhead of Fafnir and Hauptmann assault weights but there was no time to intervene - a pair of Ontos tanks opened up on him with LRMs and he fired his jump jets, hopping aside before the rain of missiles could scour away armour from the wedge-shaped torso of his Sagittaire.

A blue-and-white painted Zeus reared up in front of him - even without the golden rattlesnake of the Third Royal Guards and the blue Lyran Alliance badge where he wore the Fist-and-Sunburst, Searcy knew it for an enemy: there were no Zeus in the Fifth.

The Zeus had opened up on Scott Tracker's Mackie, a twin-barrelled laser - was that a 'Mech scale blazer? - tearing into the heavier 'Mech's armour.

Catching it from the flank, Searcy let his targeting computer pinpoint the weak spots and then fired his pulse lasers into poorly patched plating over the right shoulder. The air inside his cockpit heated to almost scorching levels and amber-lights flared but the precision burst ripped away the armour and deep into the joint, severing the limb and sending it to the ground.

The Zeus kept firing at Tracker until an Osiris soared in on its jump jets, attempting a dangerous death-from-above and spoiling Searcy's second shot.

The mechwarrior in the Zeus back-stepped, avoiding the charging Osiris's landing, then stepped forwards again, hitting the light 'Mech with a savage kick.

One leg crumpled and the Fifth Royals' Osiris hit the ground - it must be Tracker's brother Andy - the younger mechwarrior had been recruited out of the Fifth Crucis Lancers on Algol where he'd been shot out of his Valkyrie by the Republican Guards early in the campaign.

Searcy fired his ER PPC and saw the Zeus turn towards him only to take a shoulder-charge from Tracker's Mackie. Both mechs crashed forwards, the Mackie on top, and Searcy shifted his focus to the next available targets, absently ordering Jason Scott to help Andy Tracker get his 'Mech up and help finish off the Zeus - with two hand actuators, his Phoenix Hawk could deal with the first and it lacked the armour to join Searcy on the frontline.

A trio of Royal Guards 'Mechs were advancing, a Hauptmann OmniMech and a pair of Griffins. None showed any armour damage so far.

"Bannson, with me," he ordered tersely. One omni-mech deserved another and the company's one Templar might be as unfamiliar to the Lyrans as the Hauptmann was to mechwarriors from the Federated Suns.

A moment later the Gauss Rifle mounted in Bannson's Templar fired a shot into the upper glacis of the Hauptmann, scarring the 'Mech's armour to one side of the forward-jutting head.

The two faced off and the Griffins conformed to the Hauptmann's movements, confirming his suspicion that the two were acting as bodyguards - which made the assault 'Mech's pilot someone important - perhaps one of the regimental commanders.

With his heat comfortably in the green, Searcy felt safe to risk an alpha strike against the nearer of the two Griffins. Planting his 'Mech's feet squarely he stitched pulse lasers across the smaller 'Mech as the mechwarrior inside threw up the right arm to cover his vulnerable cockpit and the missile launcher next to it.

The move preserved the LRM launcher, and the ER PPC in the right arm, but at the cost of almost all the armour protection across the lower chest, Searcy's PPC lashed out and adding to the damage. His heat spike briefly into the red and only slowly back into the amber.

At this close range, Searcy thought he could see the enemy mechwarrior inside his cockpit. He flared his jump jets the moment his temperature allowed it, guessing that the Lyran mechwarriors wouldn't guess that the Sagittaire would mount them and was rewarded when he only took glancing hits from their lasers and the rest of their fire went wild.

The ninety-five ton 'Mech came down knees first against the chest of the Griffin that he'd targeted - not a perfect Death From Above, but he hadn't been planning on one - like any canny Solaris Mechwarrior he knew to aim for weak spots and heavy, claw-like feet of Searcy's Sagittaire caved in the already compromised armour below the LRM launcher.

The explosion of the LRM storage almost ruined his landing - it did tear through the chest of the Griffin, wrecking the missile launcher and cutting the critical shoulder connections to the PPC. While cellular storage saved the lighter 'Mech's engine, it was left with only a single laser to fight back with.

The second Griffin had bounded backwards to avoid being caught the same way, its ER PPC tearing through almost all the protection to the left of the Sagittaire's spine. Another hit there could be crippling, and even a single laser might be enough.

Twisting his assault 'Mech, Searcy brought the right arm weapons-mounts around, sweeping the damaged Griffin's remaining arm and the laser on it out of line of his 'Mech.

His crosshairs pulsed gold as it intersected the second Griffin's outline but he waited until they were right over the cockpit before he triggered the pulse lasers in his left arm and chest, saving his fire to bring his internal temperatures down.

Not all the pulses of coherent light hit where he needed them to - but at least two did and no Mech cockpit could take take that beating.

The Griffin fell backwards, a blackened hole marking what had once been the 'face' of its head.

Not pausing, Searcy spun his Sagittaire towards the remaining Griffin, which backed away, a shot from its medium lasers scarring the armour protection over his ER PPC. He fired without hesitation or mercy.

Both his large lasers struck home, stitching holes in the remaining frontal armour of the 'Mech and destroying the lion's head badge on the left breast. Then the PPC bolt hit dead-centre, ripping through the paper-thin protection over the Griffin's gyro. What had begun as a backwards stagger under the impacts turned into a collapse to the frozen ground.

As welcome as that victory was, the battle was far from over. The outer wall had been breached and Searcy saw a Mackie - he thought it might be Peter himself - charge through it, ducking to avoid fire from the Fafnir that tried to fill the gap and shoulder-ramming it backwards to allow lighter Mechs of 'Peter's Pride' access to the court itself.

Before he could join them, however, Searcy would need to deal with the Hauptmann and the explosion of Bannson's gauss rifle as shots hit its capacitors told him that he wasn't done there yet.

The Hauptmann was smoking - not just from the ludicrously placed small laser in the head but from a gaping hole in the right side from which coolant was leaking. In return though, Bannson's Templar was missing its entire right side except the leg...

Including the leg, in fact, as the Hauptmann's autocannon roared and shells ripped the already battered limb apart.

Searcy pushed his Sagittaire into a run towards the pair of embattled assault 'Mechs. A volley of long-range missiles hammered into the ground around him, save for a few that chipped away at his armour. For a moment he thought it was the Ontos tanks from earlier but then he spotted a battered Archer leaning against the fortifications, missile launchers still showing signs of the contrails.

Disdaining to waste attention upon the 'Mech, he left it to a Royal Guards Osiris to deliver a coup de grace with its medium lasers and focused his attention on the Hauptmann.

The enemy mechwarrior very nearly missed his approach, firing another furious volley from its large lasers and autocannon that stripped away layers of armour from the struggling Bannson - the Hauptmann only turned at the last moment to try to avoid taking Searcy's first ER PPC shot against its damaged flank. Instead the lightning clawed away protection from the right arm's elbow to its shoulder.

Seconds later, the upper limb was severed entirely as Searcy reached the effective range of his large pulse lasers and fired them as a pair into the still upraised arm.

The arm - weighing something on the order of ten tons on its own - hit the ground with a thump audible even inside his cockpit and decisively drew the Hauptmann's attention from Bannson. Searcy dodged sideways as the other mechwarrior opened fire. The autocannon was the main threat and he managed to avoid it but lasers slashed armour away from his torso while two of the four Streak SRMs fired hit his cockpit, the impacts throwing Searcy against his restraints.

In return he zeroed in on the already damaged right torso, close enough now for his own small and medium lasers. "I'll take you apart piece by piece if I have to," he muttered and his shots ripped away the remaining protection.

The explosions that followed made it clear to him that he'd found the main ammunition bins. The bulk of the stored missiles and autocannon rounds' fury was vented out of the rear as pre-weakened panels gave way but the sheer explosion left the Hauptmann staggering, the mechwarrior having to sink down onto its haunches until the gyro fully compensated - and possibly until their ears stopped ringing.

While the autocannon and one missile launcher were left, without ammunition they were useless and the limited laser array was dangerous, but far less than Michael Searcy could bring to bear.

Circling to the left exposed the side of the Hauptmann, which struggled to keep up with the more nimble Sagittaire barely able to bring its weapons to bear. Shot after shot savaged the inner workings of the OmniMech until, finally, the reactor shielding was critically ruptured.

Fire bloomed on the battlefield - around the fusion engine and then from the cockpit as the mechwarrior ejected.

For a moment, Searcy thought that the mechwarrior had made it, but the seat spiralled wildly as it soared up - part of the cockpit canopy hadn't released correctly. The parachute failed to deploy and as he watched, it hit the ground at what had to be terminal velocity, the mechwarrior still strapped in.

If there was any mercy left to them, he hoped the loyalist had been killed or at least knocked out by the cockpit - the brief flight with its obvious and fatal ending was nothing he would have wished on anyone.

Turning he saw Bannson finishing off the Archer with a kick that came entirely too close to the smaller 'Mech's cockpit. "Enough of that," Searcy ordered. "You know the orders. We're not like Katrina's fanatics."

"Sir." The other Mechwarrior was half-defiant, half-apologetic - clearly of two minds about those orders. But he obediently fell in behind Searcy as they joined the other Fifth Royal Guards streaming into the Triad's inner grounds.

* * *

Chapter 44

The Triad, Tharkad

Donegal Province, Lyran Alliance

1 June 3064

The throne of the Lyran Commonwealth was as stark as Peter remembered from when his mother had sat there.

Now it was empty, though once again flanked by a pair of BattleMechs. In the absence of any Griffins - the model that traditionally filled the role - Peter had selected two of the least damaged Mackies of the Fifth Royal Guards to take up the positions. Catherine would probably chide him for the political message, but at least he'd realised that using 'Mechs built in the Suns would be a mistake.

Victor had clearly not yet grasped the issues inherent in his own uniform. While Peter wore what was recognisably the dress uniform of the Royal Guards, if with the tunic a darker green than was standard, his elder brother was still in the uniform of a AFFS Field Marshal.

They faced each other across the strip of carpet leading up the steps to the throne. Peter could feel the eyes of the mechwarriors in the Mechs, of the officers of both their forces who'd been able to join them. Someone had to make the first move...

Victor reached out and accepted the hand that Peter hadn't realised he'd extended. They shook and somewhere holo-cameras recorded the moment for posterity. "Well done, Peter. Thank you."

Peter felt abashed for a moment and jerked his chin towards the throne. "Aren't you going to sit down?"

"No." His brother looked around the room and then shook his head. "I've no intention of taking the throne again."

Catherine had warned him but somehow he'd assumed she was wrong about this one thing. More fool him. "I was rather under the impression that that was what all this -" he gestured to indicate the entire war "- was all about."

"Then you're mistaken." Victor gave him a tired smile. "Although I imagine many other people feel the same way. I did this to remove Katherine, because she'd proven herself to be a tyrant. If the last - mein gott, nine years now? - have shown me anything, it's that I'm not suited to rule."

Peter felt his temper fray. "If you don't..." He broke off. "I'm sorry," he told the officers. "Could you give my brother and I the room? I think we need to have a frank exchange of views."

The men and women stirred, some backing away and others looking to Victor. A tall blond man took a step towards Peter's brother. "I've heard that phrase used to describe a beating... your highness." He looked up at the two Mackies. "Are you sending them away too?"

Peter glanced up and couldn't help but snort. "Fair point."

"I'm not afraid of my brother, Jer... Galen."

What? Looking again, Peter subtracted the blond's beard - and more than half a decade of lines at the corner of his eye. "Galen... Cox?"

"It's a long story," Cox admitted.

"Katherine let Ryan try to kill him, it was safer for him to disappear," Victor said impatiently. "Why don't we step aside ourselves, Peter? Let our staffs get to know each other."

Peter rubbed his jaw and nodded in agreement. Then nodded again to Galen. "Not such a long story, I guess."

One of the antechambers had long served their mother, grandmother and other Archons before them as a place to withdraw for impromptu private discussions. Victor automatically went to one of the chairs and then paused, one hand on the back. "Old habits," he said out loud.

"I can think of a few you should break. One of them being running headlong into battle."

"If I'd known Katherine wouldn't get here by now, maybe I'd have decided otherwise."

Peter raised his hand. "Catherine is our sister on New Avalon. The other one calls herself Katrina."

"Katrina was our grandmother," Victor responded sharply.

Eyes narrowed, Peter decided there were more important things to worry about. Cat would want him to stay focused. "If you're not going to be Archon-Prince again, who will? I can't exactly tie you to the throne, but what alternatives are there?"

"I was thinking you and Yvonne."

"Neither of us has any experience of ruling," he shot back. "Except the few months Yvonne had before Kat-herine rolled her off the throne in your absence."

"My experience is mostly making mistakes," his brother told him. "I'm a soldier, not a statesman. The two of you can grow into the roles - and neither of you has the baggage I'd be bringing with me."

Peter raked his hair back from his face, remembering Morgan Hasek-Davion doing much the same with his similarly long hair on a few occasions when he had cause to remonstrate with his younger cousins. "When we're talking the two of us, do you mean dividing the realm?"

"It's already divided." Victor looked away. "And even after she took the throne on New Avalon, Katherine couldn't undo that. If she, a far more adept politician than I, couldn't repair that damage then what hope is there?"

"I refuse to believe that that witch is a good example of anything," Peter growled. "She wanted the FedCom divided so she could keep playing people off against each other. You have responsibilities, Victor."

"Yes, but grasping for power isn't one of them." He settled into one of the chairs, taking a moment to let the tension between them ebb. "If you feel the Federated Commonwealth can be salvaged, then take the throne yourself and try it. But I can't."

"This is about..." He paused before he said something that he knew would provoke a angry reaction. "I have nothing against Omi, but is she a factor in your thinking?"

To his surprise, Victor let the implicit accusation wash over him. "Yes, she is. When I left to fight the Smoke Jaguars I hoped that with victory we might... have a chance to be together. I was wrong... or at least, I was naive. I got what I hoped for but not as I envisaged it. And however angry I am with Katherine, at least she gave me a chance at that... unintentionally, of course."

Peter frowned. "You could..." Then he broke off as he realised he was speaking nonsense. With the fighting over the last year and the fragility of the Steiner-Davion's position over the civil war, there was no way that a marriage or even an public relationship would be accepted.

"Maybe I should just give the job to Cat," he said after a moment. "God knows, she seems to be doing alright as Vice-Regent."

Victor shook his head. "Even if there weren't questions about her identity, you know that that wouldn't work. I've had reports on her and she's... erratic. In the long run that may not be a bad thing, but if Katherine came back she could push her aside easily."

"She might try, but I think Cat would push back. And unlike her, Cat is a mechwarrior."

Victor shrugged. "Alright. But it's a rotten thing to do to someone who needs time to recover from what seems to have been quite an ordeal, even if we don't have details."

"Damn you, that's not fair."

"Politics isn't, get used to it."

Peter clenched his fists for a moment, then caught himself. What would Father Giles do? he wondered, thinking back to St Marinus House. "Alright," he said at last. "If the throne is one responsibility too far for you, then I guess I have to take it - but you don't get to run back to ComStar and leave us to pick up the pieces."

Victor shook his head. "You don't get it, Peter. As long as I'm here, my history would work against you. It'd be assumed you were just my proxy."

"That would be their mistake. And I don't mean to keep you here on Tharkad, anyway."

"I'm listening."

Pointing at Victor - more precisely at his uniform: "You're wearing a Field Marshal's uniform, aren't you? If commanding troops is all you think you're good for, I can use that. Maybe in the Terran Corridor - Marshal Lamont has secured three more worlds there and George Hasek's sending in the Vegan Rangers to help, but it's still a narrow link." He grinned. "I remember you wanting a command in that part of the FedCom back when you were at NAIS for your exchange year."

"Here's what you wanted, but not as you expected?" Victor arched an eyebrow. "That's the story of my life." He paused. "Let me think about it."

Peter nodded. "Of course. It would be easier for Omi to visit you if you're near the Combine anyway."

"I said I'd think about it. Don't push."

Peter raised his hands defensively. "Fine, fine."

"I do owe you, though. That warning about the assassin working in the gardens - you were right."

"Thank Cat, not me. What happened to him? He didn't get away again?"

Victor's smile was shark-like. "No, he didn't get away."

* * *

Chapter 45

The Triad, Tharkad

Donegal Province, Lyran Alliance

12 June 3064

Nondi Steiner's funeral was excruciating.

Under the circumstances she could hardly have been given a state funeral and having refused to surrender at any of the opportunities offered, she'd also been denied a military one. (Peter had quietly limited that decision to senior officers - it would be an added burden for the families of the less well-paid and he drew the line at persecuting next-of-kin).

As her great-nephews, Victor and Peter nonetheless had to attend and sat beside each other on the front row, on the other side of the aisle from Nondi's daughter and other close relatives in reach. Robert Kelswa-Steiner had also turned up and was seated on that side of the aisle with his wife. One of Peter's less happy duties at some point in the near future would be to confirm the pair as Duke and Duchess of Skye: Margaret Aten had finally slipped away during the fighting on Tharkad.

Most of those recalling Nondi's life in the Triad's chapel diplomatically restricted themselves to her childhood and earlier military service, up to the War of 3039. Lisa Steiner, who had inherited the Duchy of Gallery from Nondi and opted to accept retirement rather than serve under Peter, was one of the exceptions and guardedly searched for positives in her mother's more recent loyalties.

It was almost a relief when Archer Christifori slipped into the chapel and discreetly joined the brothers on their pew. He passed a dispatch to Victor, who glanced at it and then handed it on to Peter, eyes suddenly distant.

Glad of something else to focus on than his second-cousin once-removed's understandable rose-coloured view of Nondi Steiner, Peter read the dispatch and had to keep himself from cursing out loud.

Cat had predicted this and it had been apparent from as far away as New Avalon for months, but General Sharon Bryan was still characterising it as a 'surprise attack'.

Clan Jade Falcon had hit six worlds so far, five in the General's theatre and one in the Arc Royal Defense cordon. The latter threat had to be honoured, even if it was blatantly gauged to pin in place both garrisons that were under Morgan Kell's influence and his son Phelan's Clan Wolf-in-Exile forces.

For her part Bryan was concentrating forces at her command world, confident that this would make it an irresistible target for the glory-hungry Falcons and also that they'd break their strength trying to get through her fortifications.

Loyal to Katrina as she had been, Bryan at least hadn't been an active combatant and as an Operation Serpent veteran, her experience against the Clans made removing her from one of the primary positions facing them a low priority. Looking at this, Peter wasn't sure that was right.

"Bryan?" he asked under his breath, looking back at the podium. Lisa was winding down, fortunately. Alas, Robert was next.

"Liability," Victor said tersely, similarly discreetly. "She got smashed on the offensive against the Jaguars, so now she's overreacting and focusing on defensive. Hopefully Adam Steiner will advise her better."

Well he almost beat you, so at least we know he's good, Peter thought. The commander of the Fourteenth Donegal Guards had been left with most of his forces and equipment rather than detained on the strength of Victor's unwillingness to weaken the forces facing the Jade Falcons. To his credit, Adam had been willing to focus on that threat since.

As Lisa finally stepped back, Peter rose to his feet and went past Victor and Archer to the aisle. Robert Kelswa-Steiner was halfway down the aisle but Peter gestured for him to step back and went to the podium himself.

"Under the circumstances, I believe Aunt Nondi would understand this slight deviation from the order of service," he said, looking at the scattering of faces. "We disagreed on several matters, but one thing I have never doubted was her devotion to defending the Lyran state from outside threats."

"One such threat has now moved from the possible, to the actual. As in 3050 and 3058, Clan Jade Falcon has struck at Lyran worlds and at the Lyran people." Peter turned to face the coffin, closed to hide the injuries caused by an unsuccessful ejection from her 'Mech as the Royal Guards had battled over the Triad. "Just as you twice let go of your wishes to retire in peace when your nation needed you, I must now say goodbye as I take up the cause of protecting the Commonwealth."

Leaving the podium behind him he headed for the exit, joined by Victor and the two brothers glanced pointedly at the handful of senior officers in attendance, signalling a minor exodus from the chapel. Behind them as they left, Robert pressed on to the podium, determined to have his say even if Peter was no longer there to listen.

They didn't have to go far to find somewhere to confer in privacy. Over six hundred years of piecemeal construction and reconstruction of the Triad, the default use for any part of the complex that didn't have a specified purpose was meeting room. The need for private conversations never went away, after all.

Victor cut to the chase. "We've got almost twenty combat commands on Tharkad, even if all of them are understrength. This is the obvious place to pull reinforcements from."

Taking the seat at the head of the table, Peter rubbed his jaw. "No argument from me. And we have the warships and jumpships to transport them. We need to start moving them offworld anyway." He looked at his brother. "We were talking about the Terran Corridor, but I think that this takes priority."

"I agree. This won't be like Operation Bulldog though. We don't have the reserves or the supplies in place. Two years of fighting have eaten through it."

Peter shrugged. "I know, I don't have unrealistic expectations of kicking the Falcons back out their OZ... not now, anyway. But if Khan Marthe Pryde wants a war to blood her warriors again, I want you to give her more war than they have stomach for - inflict casualties and equipment losses that her Clan can't afford. Can you do that?"

"It'll be expensive," Christifori warned. "No offense, Prince Peter, but you've never faced the Clans in battle."

"I know." And I can't go now either. Someone has to stay here and mind the store. "But it's a price we have to pay. Pryde calls herself a falcon but she's a scavenger, a vulture - striking at us because she thinks we're easy prey. If we show here that she's wrong, then it can buy us time to recover and maybe, just maybe, a few years down the line we can remove them as a problem once and for all."

Victor shook his head. "That's ambitious."

"A man's reach should exceed his grasp," Peter quoted from memory. "Else what is heaven for?"

"Fair enough." His brother glanced around the room. "I'd like to take the same task force I brought here, but the fact is, not everyone's ready for another campaign."

There had been a briefing the day before on the strengths of the units still on Tharkad. "Most of the regiments I brought are still in fighting form. General Christifori, I imagine that you'd like to stay with Victor but we also need to reinforce the Arc Royal Defense Cordon and I think you're the right man to lead the forces there."

"I can have my Avengers ready to go in three days," the Thorin native promised.

"We can do a bit better than that - I don't just want the attack on Koniz beaten off, from there I want you to hit the Jade Falcon OZ. Pryde might think she's pinning forces in place by hitting the Koniz PTM and Barber's Marauder IIs there, but if you and the Kells use it as a springboard to hit her worlds, it'll force her to commit forces against you."

Victor nodded. "That makes sense. I'd suggest sending the Seventeenth Donegal Guards as well. They were stationed in the area before they joined my forces."

"Agreed. We'll also give you the Third Regulars and..." Peter considered. "Precentor Irelon, I'd like your men to join this task force."

Raymond Irelon glanced at Victor first and then drew himself up. "We'd be honoured, sir."

"I know you gave up a lot to join my brother," Peter told him. "ComStar's disclaimed you and doesn't seem willing to move on that position, so I'd also like to offer you formal positions as part of the AFFC."

"We've considered that, sir. The Prince's Men accept."

"That's a good name, but there will also need to be a formal designation." Peter leant back in his chair. "We seem to have a vacancy in the roster for a Third Royal Guards RCT. How does that sound?"

There were intakes of breath. The Royal Guards were traditionally drawn from the very best of the Lyran armed forces, and while the First and Second garrisoned the capital, the Third Guards were the field force.

"That... sounds politically sensitive, sir."

"It is."

Irelon cracked a smile. "Well, as long as that's understood, your highness, then I accept the mission. Both the military one, and the political one."

Peter nodded. "Thank you. In a similar light, General Christifori, I'd like to designate your Avengers as the Third Skye Rangers RCT." Thorin was located within Skye Province, even if it had originally been a Terran Hegemony world.

The greying general nodded. "You want us to shame the other Skye Rangers?"

"Exactly. They withdrew from the Clan front to return to Skye. I can't formally reprimand them for that, since they didn't fight for Katrina, but in the long run I hope that you can return home and be a focus for loyal troops within Skye. I think you have the prestige for the job, and your troop's courage and honour are beyond question."

"I'm sure they'll be pleased to hear that. They may keep calling themselves Avengers though."

"I can live with that," Peter agreed.

"I take it that I should head for Melissia," Victor asked, naming Sharon Bryan's command world.

Peter gave him a crisp nod. "Correct. You have complete command of the front. General Christifori and Morgan Kell answer to you in Donegal Province and I'll place Adam Steiner directly under your command - can you work with him?"

"As long as he's willing to work with me, yes." His brother's voice betrayed some doubt on that point. "And Sharon Bryan?"

"If you can use her, keep her, but if you have to relieve her then go ahead and do it." This was no time for half-measures. "If she needs a soft landing, I can find some sort of sinecure here to make it look like a transfer rather than relief for cause."

"I doubt she'll take it well."

Peter glowered, "That would be her mistake to make, Victor. If you have to have Galen punch her, make sure he's stayed in shape."

"I really don't make a habit of punching superior officers," Galen protested mildly. "May I ask what troops you're going to send with us?"

"I'm sure the Tenth Lyran Guards would never forgive me for not letting them join Victor," quipped Peter. "Take them, the Third Lyran Guards, the Eleventh and Nineteenth Arcturan Guards..."

"Pairing Katrina's loyalists with sister regiments that joined us?"

"Correct," Peter agreed. "The Third Donegal Guards, the First Donegal Jaegers, the Federated Suns Armored Cavalry and your Outlands Legion should give you a fairly balanced force."

"I don't get any Royal Guards?" asked Victor wryly.

"No, I'm consolidating what's left of the original three RCTs into the Second and sending them to Caesar Steiner. With Robert playing games, I want some more muscle in Skye."

"That may backfire if Robert manages to subvert them," warned Galen.

"I know." Peter rubbed his jaw. "But they know they're on their last chance. Father once told me that giving someone very little when they really need it is always better rewarded than lavish generosity to those who aren't in need. Hopefully they'll take this second chance in that spirit. Besides, the Second Royal Guards are supposed to be the Pride of Skye but when did they last ever visit the province?"

"I suppose that that's fair," agreed Archer. "You're stomping pretty heavily on their traditions though."

"They can have their traditional roles back when they earn them." Peter decided not to mention that the tiny cadre left to the First Royal Guards would also be leaving Tharkad, although only to Donegal, one jump away. Rebuilding them gradually would fall to General Riskind, who would transfer to command them as an implicit reward for not bringing his Twenty-Fourth Lyran Guards in on Nondi's side.

To Peter's surprise, his cousin Sabine had actually supported Riskind on that decision, so he'd approved her to inherit command of the Lyran Guards RCT. With a little luck, Sabine and their more distant cousin Reinhart might prove a loyal voice within House Steiner to counterbalance Lisa and Robert.

* * *

Chapter 46

Castle Davion, New Avalon

Crucis March, Federated Commonwealth

1 September 3064

This was probably going to be the most expensive HPG conversation in history. Admittedly, the Star League Council had sometimes linked ten separate planets together for real-time conversations but the individual holo-fields being connected had been single individuals.

This call would link two large chambers together for at least six hours a day for what could easily be weeks. Almost a thousand people would be on the holo-cameras at any given time - the complete membership of the Federated Suns High Council and the reconstituted Estates General, together with various unelected officials and nobles down to the servers refreshing water jugs.

And then the entire data package would be edited down to a more manageable record and provided to public news outlets all across both realms, from which it was sure to be shared with foreign media and intelligence agencies.

Then again, after a harrowing budgetary meeting, Catherine had cut the legs out from under the accountants by pointing out that the cost of each day of calls wouldn't count as a rounding error compared to the costs of resuming what was now being officially called the Federated Commonwealth Civil War for the same length of time. Tancred had to give her credit for that.

Screens had been set up such that what would normally be the front of each chamber would display the other upon large holoprojectors. Since this obscured what would usually be the speaker's stand, one edge of each semi-circle had been emptied of seats and replaced with a small podium. The edges between hologram and reality were cunningly concealed, although from his place in the guest gallery, it was possible to tell.

"I hope this goes well," Yvonne murmured from beside him. "Giving everyone a chance to speak is a huge gamble. There's still plenty of ill-feeling."

"I hope not everyone tries to speak." Tancred did the maths in his head. "Even if they only had five minutes each, that would take most of two weeks."

Yvonne nodded absently. From where they sat to the left of the Federated Suns 'side' of the podium, they were adjacent to the Draconis March seating. Attendees were seated by geographical so membership ran on through the Crucis and Capellan members, then across the divide to Tharkad where Alarion, Bolan, Coventry, Donegal and Skye representative sat, followed by the seats of Peter and other ministers of state.

Lights dimmed subtly, cueing the attendees to cut conversations short and Yvonne saw Peter move to the podium.

"As the Regent of the Federated Commonwealth and Archon-Designate of the Lyran Alliance, I hereby call this extraordinary session of the Estates-General and the High Council to order." He looked around the room for a moment. "Forty-two years ago, my father and my maternal grandmother met privately on Terra and negotiated what was at first a secret alliance between their nations."

"That agreement grew into a union that, less than a decade ago, was formalised into a single state that crossed the span of the Inner Sphere. By any measure, the Federated Commonwealth of 3055 was the most powerful single political unit since the Star League. I will not dwell on how we have come from there to where we are today. The purpose of this session and those to follow is to debate where we should go from here. While I will enforce a ban on irrelevancies and personal attacks, any other aspect of this matter is open to discussion. I am committed to full transparency, so that when a decision is made, not one of our worlds can say that their interests were not represented and not one voice could not be heard."

He lowered his head and then glanced to his left - across the divide. "The first remarks will be from my sister, Catherine."

"Do you know what she's going to say?" asked Tancred as Catherine took the other podium and Peter returned to his seat.

Yvonne nodded. "We drafted it together. We don't know how she'll handle the stress here so we agreed she'd make the opening remarks and I'd deal with any responses."

Her sister had chosen to wear navy-blue today, in a military cut but very plain compared to most of the representatives. She set notes in front of her, looked into the middle-distance and declared: "Friends, Romans, Countrymen."

Tancred glanced at Yvonne. "You agreed on that as an opening?"

Her face was pale. "No, I think she's lost herself again. God, of all the times."

There was an uneasy pause as the rest of those in both halves of the room were clearly wondering the same thing.

"Those words were put to paper fifteen centuries ago and placed into the mouth of a man some fifteen centuries before even that era," Catherine continued after the hesitation. "Now, while many of our traditions - including this gathering today, could be traced back to the Roman Republic, no one here is actually a Roman. We can leave that to the Marians." The jest got a few weak laughs.

"I would hope that there are friendships amongst us, even if in all too many cases I have yet to have a chance to establish such ties with you. Friendships, that may cross from here -" She indicated the High Council. "To here -" The Estates General. "And back again."

"But countrymen... now that is the question that we are here to discuss today. Are we, all of us, countrymen - bound together as one realm by the foresight of Katrina Steiner and Hanse Davion?"

Catherine leant forwards. "There are at root three potential answers to that - yes, no and... because we live in a non-binary universe, sort of."

"We can restore the union that was envisaged from the end of the Fourth Succession War, with a single heir born to be ruler of a single realm. Although in this case, my brother Victor has declined to serve further, so it will be a different Archon-Prince."

"We can disband it, our realms perhaps remaining allies but no more - in which case Peter, Yvonne and I will have to decide on our loyalties and one or both halves will require their own rulers."

"Or we can continue as... the self-proclaimed Archon-Princess had it: two realms but one ruler. A personal union of the crowns. I cannot say that I entirely approve of this, but it is an option. Whether it is the best of both or worst of both would depend on a great many details."

Tancred frowned. "Did you notice she didn't specify that without Victor, it would be Peter ruling."

Yvonne nodded thoughtfully. "Closer to our script except for that. I hope she isn't trying to leave the door open for herself to supplant him. That would be disastrous."

Taking hold of the podium with one hand, Catherine smoothly gathered her notes with the other. "I have one further point, an announcement that I've been allowed to make today. Evidence that we are stronger together than we are apart."

"Three days ago, General Adam Steiner's task force - the combined Fourteenth Donegal Guards and First Federated Suns Armored Cavalry - scored a victory against Clan Jade Falcon upon Twycross."

There was a buzz of excitement. "For a second time, we have reclaimed the world from Clan Jade Falcon - and for the second time, we have destroyed the Falcon Guards cluster to do so." She tapped her notes together, tidily. "There are other worlds once part of the Federated Commonwealth that have been invaded over the last fourteen years. Twycross is not the first to be brought back into our company - and I see no reason it should be the last."

The applause lasted well past Horatio DuVall taking the podium, across from Tharkad's elected representative on the Estates-General, and both men had to wait before they could begin their joint presentation of how they proposed a reunited Federated Commonwealth could build upon the lessons of the previous decades.

* * *

Chapter 47

The Triad, Tharkad

Donegal Province, Lyran Alliance

31 October 3064

For the third time in six years, Tharkad was playing host to representatives of every major state - and most of the minor ones - in the Inner Sphere. Only a few were formal members of the Star League but observers had been invited and thus dignitaries had been arriving for days, almost all of them needing to have some sort of meeting with the host of the Third Whitting Conference.

Some of those greetings had gone better than others.. Sun-Tzu's had been cursory, Christian Mansdottir's had over-run by more than an hour as Peter had discussed both the military security of the tiny remnant of the Free Rasalhague Republic and the political implications of one of the attendees.

At least, Peter thought as a pair of glossy black ground cars arrived at the formal entrance, I can deal with these two as a single matter.

The military escorts peeled away as the limousines came to rest outside the Royal Palace. The door of the leading car opened fractionally ahead of the others' but the first out was Thomas Marik, who had diplomatically agreed his car would follow the sitting First Lord's in the cavalcade escorting the two House Lords from the dropport to the Triad.

The scar-faced man in FWLM uniform paused and allowed Theodore Kurita to exit the first ground-car, an act of respect he then had to prolong as the Coordinator gravely assisted both of his companions in exiting the vehicle. The rituals of court would probably have never allowed such doting on Luthien, but here on Tharkad it would play well, Peter thought.

Omiko Kurita looked a little older than she had on Solaris VII, all those years ago, but no less beautiful. And the child with her... If Peter hadn't been forewarned then he might have been caught off-guard by the Steiner-blue eyes looking out from the face of someone who so closely resembled a younger Hohiro Kurita.

"Peter," the Coordinator's daughter greeted him with a formal bow. "I have looked forward to seeing you once more."

"Indeed. I hope to have time for an introduction I promised you," he replied and then looked down at the child. "And perhaps I can then ask one of your young companion?"

The boy clutched at Omiko's kimono and buried his face against it. He was perhaps three years old, Peter thought.

"Of course." She gave him a radiant smile. "Is your brother well?"

"Our last news was yes," Peter assured her. "Fighting on Mogyorod has delayed him, but he should arrive before the conference concludes." Turning to Omiko's father, he bowed slightly. "First Lord."

Theodore's face was apparently serene but Peter suspected he was also disappointed that Victor wasn't here to smooth matters between their two Houses. The eldest Steiner-Davion had been a guest on Luthien for months, whereas Peter was at least notionally responsible for Catherine's sharp bargaining over the conclusion of James Sandoval's invasion of the Combine.

"Archon-Prince," the head of House Kurita greeted him. "Your newschannels were full of your joint council's deliberations as we made our way to the surface. Will you be continuing that experiment?"

"A question I have also been wondering," added Thomas Marik. "I have always thought your father to hold our Parliament in contempt but you seem to feel differently."

"Some sort of representative body seems reasonable, although a lot of details remain to be worked out." Peter gave the Captain-General an amused look. "How is your own Parliament treating you, Lord... Marik? I understand that Prince Kirc Cameron-Jones has been quite vocal in questioning your right to the name."

Thomas' eyes narrowed. "The Regulans have always been... difficult."

"Ah. Well there's no question of your competence. A booming economy and two victorious wars are a record any leader should be proud of."

The Marik accepted the compliment gracefully enough, although Theodore seemed less pleased. He'd managed to more or less come out on top against the Ghost Bears, but the personal cost of the victory had been as heavy as the political cost of ceding Marduk in order to make peace with the Sandovals.

"Anyway, we were speaking of introductions," Peter offered, ushering the two of them up the steps into the Palace. "There's someone you should meet before the Conference begins."

"My daughter?" asked Thomas.

Peter gave him a bland look. The Captain-General wasn't Isis Marik's real father and by now everyone important in the Inner Sphere knew that. Isis was on Tharkad but she had expressed no interest in meeting the man who had taken on the identity of her true father. Peter had loaned her Resaurius Keep (his own preferred residence) for the duration of the conference since he would have to remain in the Triad. "This is a political matter, I wouldn't wish it thought that I was springing an ambush on you."

"If I may be excused from that meeting?" Omiko murmured.

"Of course. I believe Lady Isis Marik has expressed a wish to see you when you're settled," Peter assured her. "In the meantime, my other guest is through here." He gestured towards some double doors and the two guards waiting there opened them sharply.

Both men recognised Christian Mansdottir immediately, of course. It was the Ghost Bear officer standing with them who came as a shock. Unless you counted Phelan Kell, no Clanner had ever attended the Star League Council before.

"You will know the Regent of the Free Rasalhague Republic, of course." Peter nodded to the general first. "But it must be some years since the two of you met the Elected Prince on Outreach."

Ragnar Magnusson - or simply Star Colonel Ragnar, as the Clans would have it - drew himself up. "First Lord Kurita, Captain General," he greeted them.

Peter had hoped for more of a reaction from the two older rulers but both men took the introduction in stride - possibly they were less surprised than Peter had hoped. It would be naive to think that they had no spies. "I'll let you get re-acquainted," he told them and took Omi's arm, guiding her away from the meeting.

The boy on the other side gave him a defensive look, which Omi noticed. "It's alright, Kitsune," she assured him. "Lord Peter met many years ago and he isn't taking liberties."

That still didn't seem much reassurance to the boy and Peter wondered how - or if - he might win his nephew over. He hadn't been around children much since he was one himself. "Kitsune... is that a common name in the Combine? I don't think I've come across it before."

"Not so very common," she said with a slight smile. "It means fox, in Japanese."

Peter couldn't help but smile at that. "Does it really?" His father, Hanse, had been nicknamed 'The Fox' by his enemies - a reference to his wiliness, his red hair and to the personal heraldry of House Davion.

Kitsune asked his mother a question in japanese and she paused, letting go of Peter to pick him up. "In german, Kit', we're on Tharkad now."

"What does his name mean?" the boy asked.

Omi paused, apparently not sure.

"Rock," Peter mumured under his breath as they reached the entrance to the apartments reserved for House Kurita's visit.

She repeated the definition for Kitsune, who was apparently satisfied and toddled into the apartments to explore his new residence.

"I wasn't sure," she admitted. "It's an old christian name, isn't it?"

Peter nodded. "Christ's first follower was called Simon, but the Messiah named him Peter, the rock on which he built his church."

"Ah." Omi tilted her head. "I believe you have grown into the name then."

"How so?"

"You were not easily moved from Zaniah," she told him. "But when you were set into motion, you... what is the saying? "A rolling stone gathers no moss."

Peter nodded. He supposed it was true. Not even two years now since Catherine had been found in the desert and that meeting had hurled him across space from one side of the Federated Commonwealth to another. "I think I'm back at rest now."

"Yes, your enemies have for the most part been crushed beneath you." Omi nodded. "Not easily moved," she repeated. "But when you do move, it is with great force and power. These are good traits in a ruler, Peter."

"I've learned something of restraint, I hope," he agreed, thinking back to his younger days. "I should let you get settled in though."

He felt a rueful smile cross his face as he left that wing and headed back towards the core of the Triad. When he was younger he'd coveted the throne, but today - as so often - he walked directly past the throneroom and made directly for the office where his grandmother's old wooden desk - hand-crafted for her by his grandfather and the Kells - had been restored to its proper place.

"I just hope this stone doesn't wind up buried beneath the paperwork," he mused as he checked his in-tray. More folders and data-chips had arrived in his absence, sorted by the sizeable secretarial staff.

One chip had the code for Catherine and he plugged it into the computer on the desk. It wasn't a personal message but an update on negotiations with the Marquess of Filtvelt. Trempeleau's support for the Federated Commonwealth had come at a price for increased support of the Outback worlds along the Periphery border.

Catherine drew his attention to the reports on the status of Victory Industries, on Marduk. The 'Mechworks had been retooled to construct OmniMechs for the DCMS but it still had much of the older equipment not needed for them. She recommended subsidising the creation of a new factory for the company, located in the Outback where it could supply Griffins and Wolverines to units along the border.

The plan seemed solid, if expensive, but it could be worked into the reconstruction budget. I wonder what tooling our other manufacturers have lying idle, Peter wondered and scribbled a note to find out. It would still be simpler than expanding production of newer machines and it would take years to make good the losses the Civil War had inflicted.

I'll gather no moss while my sisters are around me to keep me moving, he thought lightly and moved on to the next bit of business.


End file.
